City of Ghosts
by jolie-herondale
Summary: Clary is pronounced dead, leaving Jace heartbroken. But when Jace saves a mundane who resemblances his dead Clary, questions and past ghosts are raised, once again making him question the Clave. Convinced she is HIS Clary, Jace tries his very best to save her and bring her back to the Shadow World. To him.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"What is all this damn racket about?" Jace questioned Alec who shrugged, obvious that his _parabatai_ didn't know a thing.

"I don't know, Jace. Mom just called us down to the library. She sounded like she was going to faint … or throw up," Alec said, pushing dark hair out of his eyes.

"By the Angel, if Sebastian isn't dead - again - I will freaking scream at the whole bloody Conclave," Jace growled, thinking of the dead, faired-headed demon boy that had controlled Jace and almost killed Clary. Even though Sebastian had been destroyed by the Heavenly Fire, leaving Jonathan Morgenstern in his place, he still couldn't help the absolute hatred he had for the fair-haired boy.

Jace and Alec burst into the library, stopping dead in their tracks.

Jocelyn was in a corner, sobbing her eyes out while being supported by Luke who was pale and had tears running down his face. Isabelle was crumpled in a heap on the floor near Hodge's old desk, crying quietly to herself. Maryse was staring at a piece of parchment paper, looking like she _did_ want to throw up.

"What the freaking, bloody _hell_ is going on? Why are you crying like a bunch of old ninnies watching Downton Abbey or something?" Jace demanded, an uneasy feeling rolling in his stomach. He ran a hand through his hair while Alec darted over to where Isabelle was huddled up, whispering in her ear.

Jocelyn's eyes snapped up to his at the sound of his voice and she slowly made her way over to him, her sobbing momentarily stopped.

"Jocelyn?" Jace asked, looking at the woman. She had grown warmer to him since their final battle with Sebastian, finally accepting him. I guess she accepted the fact that Jace was going to be around for a long, long time.

At this moment, Jace could only think of one reason why everyone was crying. Why Jocelyn _and Isabelle_ were reacting like this.

"Has Simon been hurt?" Jace said, feeling sick. He and Simon had grown much, much closer too, with help from his Clary of course, and a persistent Isabelle. Though he still had his name calling habits.

Thinking of Clary, Jace wondered where she was now in LA. What she was doing there, only the Angel knew.

Jocelyn broke into grieving, heartbreaking sobs again, hugging Jace like how a mother would hug a son.

"To lose one now the _other_?" Jocelyn sobbed desperately, clutching onto Jace like her life depended on it.

"Would someone freaking tell me _what the hell is going on_?!" Jace growled, holding Jocelyn up before the woman could slide to the floor.

"It's not Simon, Jace," Maryse choked out. She shakily strode over to Jace - her cool and calm composure that was always carried by the Lightwoods gone - and handed him the letter she had been reading. The official stamp of the Council was visible and Jace dared himself to carry on reading.

 _To: The members of the New York Institute_

 _From: Consul Ravenshade_

 _It is with great grief, sorrow and heavy hearts that we pass the news_ _to you that Clarissa Adele Fairchild - who has served the Clave extremely well in our immortal war against demons - has been defeated in battle against a mass group of Draconidea demons in Los Angeles, where was stationed last. Condolences to family and her comrades in battle. She will forever be remembered by the members of the Clave as a legendary warrior and uniter of the Nephilim and Downworlders._

 _ **Ave atque vale, Clarissa Fairchild.**_

 _ **Yours truly,**_

 _ **Consul Ravenshade**_

Jace's hand shook as Luke pried his wife away from Jace, his face glistening with freshly shed tears of sorrow. He knew what 'defeated in battle' meant. It was Clave talk for not just losing a fight but -

"It's Clary, Jace. She's gone."

Silence.

"No … no, _NO_!" Jace cried in a sudden outburst, leaping away from everyone. "I would have felt it," he gasped. But he knew there was no way _could_ have physically felt it. They weren't _parabatai_ or married. But Jace expected himself to feel _something_ \- _anything_. An uncomfortable feeling in his being, something troubling his thoughts - _anything_. But zilch. Zero. _Nothing_.

Jace felt a tear run down his cheek and he didn't move to wipe it away even if the moisture made him look weak - he just stared sightlessly ahead. He didn't think he could ever do anything ever again.

"Jace," Alec said, his face grief stricken too. "I'm so sorry."

"She's gone, Jace. _My parabatai,_ " Isabelle sobbed, showing him her faded _parabatai_ run. It was a shimmery scar, telling Jace that Izzy's other half was inactive. Gone. "She's gone."

It was true then.

" _Jace_!" Alec gasped but his voice sounded so far away … so distant. He only wanted one person now, but she was gone.

Jace felt the sensation of falling and being caught by someone - who, he didn't know. Or care.

"Kill me, Alec," Jace begged, realising it was his _parabatai_ who caught him. "Kill me. I _need_ to be with her." He could hear the desperation in his voice, the heart shattering grief and anguish. No, it was more than that. More than his body could comprehend at a single moment, more than any human being had experienced in their whole lifetime.

"I won't. Not like this. No, Jace," Alec said, defiantly, biting back tears.

The last thing Jace saw before darkness carried him away into a peaceful, carefree void, was the piercing, loving green eyes of the girl he loved the most in the world. The _only_ girl he would ever love in the world. Forever. His perfect little angel.

 **A/N - First, as usual, all credits go to the amazing Cassandra Clare. In this book Clary and Jace or not married (yet) but Clary and Isabelle are parabatai (there is a reason it is Isabelle and not Simon. I'll explain later on) At the moment, Jace is eighteen almost nineteen so you can do the maths for the other characters. I know Jace is only about to turn seventeen in CoHF but this story timeline is where Jace has been seventeen from book one.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	2. Little London Girl

**PART 1: Shadows of the Past**

 **Chapter 1: Little London Girl**

Clary shivered in the cold, Even after living for eighteen years in London, she still found it cold.

 _How was that even possible?_

She was weird, she had to admit.

Even though she had lived in London for the past eighteen years of life, sometimes the busy city felt foreign to her. Not the 'home' feeling she would expect.

She spotted a warm, friendly looking cafe and went inside, oblivious to the watching eyes.

Raoul looked around the cafe he worked in in distaste.

He was a _vampire_ , for God's sakes and he chose to work in a disgusting mundane cafe. _Why? What was going through his two-hundred-year-old head when he decided to try for a job here?_

He made sure that there was a good amount of space between him and the patch of faint sunlight that was streaming in through the windows.

The sunlight was not as bright nor as powerful as the sunlight in other sunnier places like New York, Florida or Los Angeles but it was still enough to burn him if he stood there, turning him to fine ash.

He looked around, feeling bored.

Really, of all the things he could have chosen to keep himself out of trouble, he chose to be a freaking _cashier_?

One of the reasons he worked in this sucky mundane establishment was so he stayed out of trouble - to avoid bumping into one of _them_. Arrogant, annoying adolescents that controlled Downworlders - though the tie between the two kinds had somewhat strengthened after a small little war that Raoul hadn't joined due to a … financial emergency. Raoul had never liked wars, always stayed out of them. But he hated them still. _Nephilim_.

One moment, the Downworlders and the Nephilim were practically restraining their own to keep from tearing the others' throats out - and the next, all of them had turned into _peace-loving, tolerating and understanding hippies, hugging and watching out for each other._

Treating each other like friends.

Raoul rolled his eyes and put on his crappy mundane, friendly face as another mundane walked in.

He froze when he caught a whiff of her scent that made his saliva pool in his mouth.

The heat was pleasant inside.

She went up to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee which turned out to be her most favourite thing in the whole wide world.

 _What would she do without it?_

"That would be £3," the cashier said, boredly, sighing. Clary got the obvious hint he didn't like this job too much. He looked at Clary curiously, his head cocked to the side slightly.

"Here," Clary handed him the money and took the warm cup of coffee in her hands. Her eyes searched for a seat in this occupied establishment, one finger tapping her paper cup.

She finally found one and sat in a chair by the window, looking out as people walked around, swathed in thick coats and gloves and hats. Clary looked down at herself, wearing only a cotton shirt, a black hoodie jacket, a pair of jeans and Converse sneakers.

She reached her hand into her messenger bag and felt around for her sketchbook.

When she felt it, she took out her pens and flipped the book open.

The book was filled with drawings and sketches of things Clary dreamt about at night. The beautiful and, magnificent and the terrors alike.

An array of beautiful knives, a place with odd unidentifiable flora that seemed to be a greenhouse, a beautiful flower that was silver, a grand facade of a church spiraling turrets - the words _Institute_ sketched on the front gates.

Sometimes she wondered why she dreamt of these things.

Things she had whenever seen before or could've imagined with such clarity.

She reached for her coffee before a striking pain seared through her head, an image flashing in her mind.

A handsome blonde with gold eyes being stabbed in the heart by another older fair haired man with a sword by a lake. A gut and heart wrenching feeling overcame her, making her feel like throwing up blood or putting a bullet through her head

Everything turned black for a moment and when her sight regained, Clary found herself lying on the cold tiled floor of the coffee cafe, breathing heavily and shuddering uncontrollably. Her hand pillows her head while her other hand was on her fluttering, sick feeling stomach.

There were dim voices around her, buzzing like flies or static on a radio, slowly gaining clarity as her ears and mind adjusted.

"Miss, are you okay"

"Miss, do you need a doctor?"

" _Oh my goodness, miss_?!"

"What the hell happened to her? Somebody call the ambulance."

Clary pushed herself up, red hair falling into her eyes.

"Miss, are you okay? Do you need a doctor?" a man who Clary suspected was the cafe's barista asked, his eyes worried, lines creating his large forehead.

"No, no. Im fine." Clary said propping herself up.

"Are you sure? I could send you to the hospital nearby here." the barista offered, holding out a hand.

"I really am, fine. Thank you for asking. Excuse me," Clary stuttered, getting to her feet shakily and getting her stuff.

She pushed out of the cafe, heaving as she tried to clear her fogged up brain.

After so long - three months - these … seizures were back.

She didn't know when they began but Clary suspected it started when she was a small girl.

Sometimes, she would get flashes of images during her waking hours. She got them in her sleep sometimes, making her scream and cry as she was jolted awake. They burned her thoughts, traumatizing her on end sometimes. She would scream and thrash and yell words in her dreams though they meant nothing of consequence to Clary. They were just so _real_ … like she had experienced them before but intensified by about a billion percent.

Wind blew her hair in her face and Clary didn't bother to push it out of the way.

She spotted an awaiting cab just idling on the curb and Clary hurried her steps.

And then she rammed into someone, not looking where she was going.

"Sorry," she mumbled before continuing. She was in no shape to make a full pledged apology to an utter stranger.

"What the f - _Clary_?" the person she rammed into gasped. She ignored him, barely noticing or acknowledging the fact that the complete stranger had just called her by her name. She got into the cab, throwing her head upon the soft, plastic covered leather seat.

"St Marcus Road, number 76, please." Clary whispered, feeling weak. Her heart was still racing, slamming in her ribcage as the cab lurched forward towards her destination.

 **A/N - Hello! I hope you guys liked this chapter. Please leave a comment if you like :D**


	3. Dwelling on the Past

**Chapter 2: Dwelling on the Past**

Jace muttered to himself, hunched in the cold weather of London.

He had to admit … he missed the New York Institute … Brooklyn though the place held so many precious yet unwanted memories of … Clary.

Just thinking of her made Jace's heart squeeze tightly in his chest. He pushed hair out of his eyes, looking at the pavement.

He didn't know why he came here in the first place. He didn't quite have the authority to leave his duties in New York by the Clave but what they didn't know wouldn't kill them. Or in this case, Jace.

There was no solid, dire reason for Jace to be here. He just felt like he needed to get away ...

He was on his way to meet an old friend - not in the way of how long they had been friends but more of age - in the outskirts of London.

James Carstairs.

Thinking of Jem, Tessa and unwillingly … Clary, Jace didn't see where he was going until he rammed into someone.

Jace's head snapped up, ready to give the stranger one of his legendary cuss outs though it was partially his fault. "What the -?" When he looked up, he froze, hanging in mid sentence.

He had rammed into someone small and petite, short with red hair and looked exactly like -

Jace sucked in a sharp breath that felt like a blade dripping in demon ichor shoved down his throat. _Clary._

" _Clary?_ " Jace gasped, feeling giddy.

"Sorry," the girl who looked like Clary mumbled

She didn't look up at Jace and continued to where she was walking to.

Jace wanted to run after her, grab her arms and force her to _look_ at him but his feet stayed planted to the concrete pavement, frozen in shock and disbelief.

Jace watched as the girl who looked like Clary got into the cab and watched the cab drive off.

That couldn't have been Clary, could it?

 _His Clary was no longer with them … gone ..._

Then and there, Jace thought he was going to break down on the street there and cry like a girl for the girl he loved most in the world.

Instead, he shook his head harshly, trying to clear his thoughts.

He started walking again, in the direction of Jem's home, his thoughts dwelling in the past.

"Jonathan!" Jem said, pleased.

Jace smiled ruefully at him, earlier's bump in still shaking him to his core. His heart.

"It's Jace, Jem." Jace reminded as the former Silent Brother invited him into his home.

"Jonathan is a grand Shadowhunter name and the Herondales have always -" Jem started, going into one of his 'How Grand the Herondale Family is' speeches. Jace rolled his eyes.

"For the Angel's sake, Jem, let the poor boy be. If it's Jace he wants, it's Jace he gets," an exasperated yet serious voice said. Jace looked up as Tessa Gray turned the corner to greet Jace.

"Hello, Tessa," Jace said, standing in a lazy posture.

"Jace," Tessa greeted back, grinning. "Have you come to visit just to stand in the damn foyer? Come in."

Jace followed the couple into their tastefully modern living room even though the outside looked like an old English house. Probably because it is.

The house belonged to the Carstairs family so Jem had inherited it. The outside had a nice 18th century look to it. Tessa and Jem were staying in it momentarily as their other apartment was currently unsuitable for living in due to reasons unknown to Jace. He had been to that apartment once and it was safe to day he preferred the apartment better. On the way in, he had noticed a few disgusting mallards quacking in the pond.

"You know, Tessa. You have ducks in your pond," Jace said matter-of-a-factly as he caught sight of the pond and the nasty fouls again through a window as they passed

Tessa rolled her eyes. "You are _such_ a _Herondale_ , Jace," she teased, sitting on the black sofa beside Jem.

Jace sat opposite them, feeling slightly out of place.

"I'll go make us something to drink. I'll leave both of you to it, then," Tessa said, going into the kitchen.

The moment Jem's fiancee disappeared into the kitchen, Jace buried his head into his hands. "I swear by the Angel I'm losing it, Jem." Jace groaned.

"Again?" Jem teased but immediately sobered up, realizing his attempt at a joke wasn't appreciated nor appropriate.

Jace remembered the few days and weeks and months after news of Clary's passing and shuddered. He had refused to eat, had stopped talking altogether - just nodding or shrugging when someone asked him something. He had also cried and screamed in his sleep, calling out for Clary but she never came. He had practically lost it then, acting brain dead like. He slowly came back to life after that but he was never the same. And he could tell.

"What's got you in a twist?" Jem sighed, leaning forward.

"I swear I thought I saw _Clary … my Clary, by the Angel … on the streets of bloody London!_ " Jace growled.

Jem sighed. "Listen to you. You sound just like William, Jace." Jem sighed. Jace made a face. He hated it when Jem compared him to William - Jem's _parabatai_ and Jace's great to however how many degrees grandfather.

Jem sighed again. "I know it was hard for you when Clarissa passed, Jace. Believe me, I know. But you have to move on. You are being weighed down and tortured by your past."

Jace looked up, fire blazing in his eyes. He felt the residue of the Heavenly Fire inside him ignite and he fought to keep himself calm. Though the words that escaped his mouth still came out as a growl.

"Are you honestly, seriously, truly asking me to forget about _Clary_?" Jace growled, his eyes narrowing to coin slits.

Jem looked taken aback. "Not if I wish to have my head intact with my body." Jem said, sounding horrified. "I'm not stupid, Jonath- Jace, but what I'm trying to tell you is that you are clinging on to a _ghost_."

" _I can't help it, James._ " Jace said, feeling exasperated, tired and just … done.

"I know you can't. In that short time I met Clary, I would've clung on to. But eventually, I would've let go. But you … the way _you cling on to her Jace … you are never letting go._ "

The words were a slap delivered to Jace though he knew it was true.

Yes, Jace loved Clary _too much_ to let her go … and it was killing him.

" _I just can't, James._ " He so rarely called Jem James, only once when he reacted to something extremely embarrassing and never to be repeated again. Jem had bought him a duck for Christmas as a joke (though the joke hadn't been appreciated when it had escaped and committed to becoming a cannibal and ate the duck pie Jocelyn had made). After the beast had been removed, Jace had promptly chased Jem around with a seraph blade.

Jem sighed again. "I really don't know how to help you then, Jonathan. I wish I could, I really do but I just _don't_."

Jace got up, smoothing his jeans.

"Then I'll go then. It was nice meeting you again, Jem. Come over to Brooklyn some time. Magnus has been itching to see you. Jace said, showing his way out himself.

"Jace -"

Jace didn't turn. He just carried on walking and turned the corner and headed towards the door.

On the table in the corridor, Jace noticed a few seraph blades and daggers.

Jace looked at them and grimaced. He snatched three seraph blades away, hooking them onto his belt and glamoured them so no mundane could see them.

He was going to do what Jace Herondale did best.

Hunting demons.

 **A/N - So ... what do you guys think? I'm seriously getting emotional writing this book!**

 **I will be trying to upload once a day if I can but I'm pretty busy with work and such. I have the majority of the story planned out it's just a matter of putting it together.**

 **Thank you so much for the comments - they mean the world to me! :D**


	4. Haunting Nightmares

**Chapter 3: Haunting Nightmares**

 _Clary watched with a sickening, revolting horror in her chest as the sword plunged into the boy's chest, into his heart._

 _The boy's eyes flew wide. A look of disbelieving confusion passed over his face; he glanced down at himself, where the gleaming sword stuck out grotesquely out of his chest - it looked more bizarre than horrible, like a prop from a nightmare that made no logical sense. The older man drew his hand back then, jerking the sword out of the blonde boy's chest the way he might have jerked a dagger from its scabbard; as if it had been all that was holding him up, the beautiful blonde went to his knees. The sword which he was holding in his grasp slipped out and hit the damp earth._

 _He looked at it in puzzlement, as if he had no idea why he had been holding it in the first place or why he had let it go. He opened his mouth as if to ask the question, and blood poured over his chin, staining what was left of his ragged shirt._

 _Clary screamed a name unfamiliar to her ears but it still pierced into her ears, full of meaning._

" _Clary! Clarissa! Wake up!_ " a voice screamed in her ear. "Clarissa Adele Ashworth!"

Clary gasped, sitting up, tangled in her sheets.

Her mother was on her bed, her forehead creased with worry.

"Mom?" Clary croaked, her mouth feeling dry as sandpaper. Her heart slammed in her chest painfully, straining to work. She clutched at her chest, gasping for air. Her lungs weren't receiving the air well, making her gasp and choke more.

"Breath, Clary." her mother begged. "Do it with me. Slowly, Clary. Slow that heart." her mother hushed. Clary took the breaths with her mother, trying to slow her breathing.

"You were screaming again, sweetheart," her mother said, pushing Clary's hair out of her face. She was clammy all over though technically it shouldn't be possible, not in her air conditioned room.

"About what?" The dream was already fading to a bad dream, dimming into the back of Clary's head. That was the funny thing at first. The dreams scared the hell out of her, nearly killing her once a year back. _Her heart had stopped._ But then the dreams calmed and faded though they lingered.

"Nothing important. Something about blood …" her mother said, looking away. Before she could hide her face from view, Clary saw the gleam of a collected tear at the corner of her eyes.

"Mom? Are you _crying_?" Clary gasped, taking her mother's hands.

"What? No. I'm … I'm going to get you breakfast." her mother said, a slight catch in her voice.

Clary stared after her mother, running a hand through her clammy hair.

Keayla Ashworth looked nothing like Clary. Unlike her daughter, Keayla had silvery blond hair that was mostly wavy rather than curly. Keayla possessed a porcelain-like, untainted beauty that had every single man and woman turning to look twice. Not a freckle or a wrinkle or a facial disfigurement could be seen. Her mother's skin practically glowed with radiance.

Keayla possessed marvel worthy blue eyes that always seemed to frequently gleam purple under the correct light.

Frequently, Clary wondered where all her mother's beauty had gone and why she possessed not an ounce of it. Sighing, Clary laid her questions to rest and got out of bed.

She pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her in her flimsy white camisole. She cringed.

As she padded into her bathroom, she crossed her vanity table and caught sight of a very distinct scar on get upper arm, standing out from the other oddly shaped scars that decorated her body.

Her mother told her that the scars were products of her psychotic father's tortures. Apparently, he would brand her and her mother with different types of … symbols a few years ago. Her mother's skin was also decorated with different scars, much more than Clary.

There were only a small few on Clary but because of these scars, Clary never wore a tank top without a jacket or long sleeves to cover the scars up.

The symbol which was burned in her upper arm burned warmly sometimes, and Clary wonder why. The others didn't sting or hurt, just like they were a part of her.

Clary looked away, going into the bathroom to ready herself for the day.

She pulled on a white printed tee and her jeans. She threw on her light blue hoodie, freeing the hair which was trapped in the hoodie.

"Where are you going?" her mother asked as Clary pulled on her boots.

"Out. I need the air." Clary said, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Okay …" her mother sighed. It was a routine. Every time Clary got those nightmares, she would go out and walk around. "Be careful."

"Yeah," Clary said, offering her mother a smile.

Her mother didn't return the smile, just continued making tea.

Clary stepped out, deciding to go to the library. She wanted to look up on a book about Rembrandt's techniques for painting, meaning to borrow it but kept forgetting.

It was a short walk to the library, just far enough for a light sheen of sweat to appear on Clary's forehead.

She walked in, a new librarian at the checkout counter.

She was pale and extremely beautiful. The whole package.

High cheekbones, blue irises, long and thick eyelashes and perfect plump lips. Her platinum blond hair was tied into a ponytail, swishing as she moved.

Clary went straight to the Fine Art shelf, her hands skimming along the books, enjoying the feeling of leather, hardcover and soft paper beneath her fingertips. She found a book with a few famous painting techniques and decided to get this one.

"Is that all?" the librarian asked, batting her eyelashes. Her voice was silvery and high, like wind chimes tinkling softly against one another in a soft wind.

"That's all for today, thank you." Clary said, smiling. The librarian smiled, flashing pearl white teeth. Clary thought she had seen twin needle sharp teeth like fangs …

She shook her head harshly. Officially ... she was losing it. Bonkers.

The librarian winked and handed her the check out card, reminding which day to return it.

Clary nodded, smiled and walked out.

A light drizzle had begun, the streets empty of people.

 _How convenient_ , Clary thought, pulling her hood up.

She felt the rainwater splash onto the hood of her jacket, seeping through the fabric

As she passed by a convenient store, she remembered that she needed a few art supplies that were running low.

She ducked into the store, thankful for the cover from the rain.

An elderly woman with too big glasses sat behind the counter, eyeing Clary with burning pitch black eyes. She smiled, showing yellow and cavity infested teeth.

"Hallo, dearie. What can I help you with?" she asked, her British accent thick and dripping.

Feeling uneasy, Clary ruefully smiled back. "I just want to get some marker pens and a sketchbook," she said

"Good … we have those here … yes we do." the old woman said, pleased.

Clary smiled and walked to the back of the shop where it said 'stationery'.

A short line of pens, markers, chalk and oil pastels lined the shelves. Clary grabbed a sketchbook and a box of PrismaColors.

"We're having a sale on those now, dearie."

Clary yelped in surprise, dropping the colors.

The old woman stood by Clary, showing Clary her chipped yellowed chipped teeth. Clary quickly bent down to grab the colors.

From her peripheral vision, Clary saw a rotting wooden door, the paint peeling and cracked. There was a thump against the door and Clary shot back up when she saw thick red liquid seeping oil from under the door.

 _Blood._

Clary screamed, dropping everything again.

She turned, only to find the old shopkeeper blocking her way.

But she had changed.

Her wrinkled skin had shriveled up, cracking, grey and ashy in certain places. Her eyes were now black glowing coals, flames enveloping the outer pupil. Black smoke drifted from her body as if she was burning. Clary skittered back a step, gasping

"No … you can't go … dearie. I'm still very hungry you see … you're small but you'll do. Especially since you're a Nephi-"

Before the woman could finish her demented rant, Clary pushed past her with every single ounce of strength she had. The woman crashed against the shelf she stood by, a sharp piece of splintered wood embedding itself in her arm. She let out a loud and inhumanly angry howl. Clary ran for the exit, hearing the wet tearing of flesh behind her. She didn't turn to see.

It was still a light drizzle when Clary was outside, adrenaline and fear spiked blood running in her veins.

She took off in the direction of home, sweat running down the side of her temple.

Clary glared at the London, gray sky and scowled before she was knocked into the alley she was running past, pinned to the floor.

Her head cracked against the asphalt of the alley, making Clary cry out in pain as her vision blurred. Sharp rocks poked into the back of her scalp, sending jolts after jolts of pain through Clary.

A big, ugly _creature_ hovered over Clary, two of its eight arms clamped painfully on her arms, pinning them to the gravel of the alley. It chittered in delight, seeming to grin

It had eight eyes and pincers. It was red brown in color, the smell emitting from it making Clary want to gag. Basically, it was a giant spider/centipede with really bad breath.

An instinct that Clary was foreign to came to her and before she could stop herself, she hammered her knee into the monster, making it yowl in pain.

Noticing a shard of broken glass right by her hand, Clary snatched it up and yanked her hand free, slashing it across its eyes, destroying six out of the eight black beady eyes.

Black blood dripped from its eyes and onto Clary. A few splattered on her face and her exposed neck, burning and sizzling at her skin painfully. She gasped at the pain and the monster seized her current vulnerability and clamped her back down onto the ground, bringing one of its pinchers to her neck.

And all Clary could do was scream and scream and scream.

 **A/N - So … how was this chapter? Any questions? Any comments? Thanks for reading!**


	5. Convincing Matters

**A/N - So ... it's a sunny day and I was inspired to write! Here is Chapter 4 - the longest one yet! Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 4: Convincing Matters**

Jace kicked a lone rock out of his way with the tip of his boot, his hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep his hands warm against the grey London weather.

Jace impatiently pushed curly blond hair that fell into his eyes as the wind blew across his face. He silently cursed the wind. His mind was blank though his face resembled a person in deep thought. A crease was formed in between his eyes and his emotionless eyes cast downwards, focused on the cracks in the pavement.

He decided he would be Portaling back to the New York Institute tonight, with the rune Clary had created.

He was glamoured now, so no one could see the seraph blades and daggers that hung on his belt and was secured by his several sheaths. The last thing he needed was for annoying mundane girls to come up to him, giving him her number or mundanes screaming at the sight of his deadly instruments.

A sudden piercing yet extremely familiar scream stabbed into his ears, making them ring and Jace froze, his whole body immobilized in lockdown, feeling like someone had injected heavy doses of numbing potions into him -

Then, as if someone injected liquid adrenaline into his veins, Jace whirled on his heels and followed the source of the scream, pushing his legs forward though such excessive force was unnecessary as even at his usual speed he would have reached there in seconds.

A shape-shifter demon - a Ghost demon, to be exact - sat atop of a young mundie girl who was thrashing and screaming as if her life depended on it, the demon hissing and growling bone chilling words.

" _Sweet, sweet girl. Blood of an_ -" Jace flung his dagger which he had free from his belt in exactly zero point six seconds from his sheath and thrown it in another half second. It embedded itself in the back of the demon who howled in anger, whirling on Jace with several black beady eyes that glinted with hunger and malice.

" _Another godforsaken_ _Nephilim_?" the demon hissed, eyeing the Marks that decorated Jace's skin in a complicated weave of designs like they were something sinful rather than holy.

Jace's eyes narrowed to coin slits. "I'm not just Nephilim. I am _the_ Nephilim." And Jace lunged forward, snarling ghastly as if he were the demon.

The demon howled and launched forward too, it's multiple arms extended to impale and shred Jace to shreds. Jace almost barked a laugh at the thought.

He grabbed a seraph blade from his belt, cried an Angel's name and brought it down in between one of its many eyes, undiluted anger and loathing boiling up in Jace like never before. Jace bared his teeth at the wet sound of flesh ripping.

Upon entry, dark, acidic ichor spilled forth and splattered onto Jace's hand, burning and prickling his skin, irritating Jace further.

Ever since Clary's death which was caused by demons, Jace no longer hunted demons for the adrenaline and thrill. He did it out of hatred and his eternal oath to rid the world of these vile _creatures_.

The demon howled and swiped its hand at Jace, clawing at his hand. Jace felt the claw shred the skin of his arm though he registered no pain, only an intensified fury. He gritted his teeth and twisted the blade before yanking it back.

He leapt back as the demon lunged for him, a guttural, feral snarl that raised the hair on Jace's nape escaping it's mouth. Jace threw his blazing seraph blade into the air, threw himself around the demon and caught the blade with his other hand before bringing it down onto the demon's neck.

Despite the hard protective shell of the demon, the seraph plunged into the demon as if it were butter, severing it's spinal cord when Jace felt it come into contact with something hard. Gripping the hilt of his blade with both hands, Jace twisted his weapon with a grunt until he heard a sickening crunch, telling Jace that he had severe the demon's spine.

Jace yanked the blade out harshly, his lips curling into a sneer before the demon went taut, a few limbs already turning into grey ash.

Its beady eyes rolled into the back of its head and the demon started to fall but before it could touch the ground, it burst into fine fiery ash that sifted onto the ground and Jace's boots like minute grey snowflakes.

Jace looked at the fine ash that covered the ground in with a detached satisfaction. He turned to leave quickly before a soft, piercing voice rang through the filthy, damp alley.

" _What the hell was that thing_?"

Jace froze at the voice, feeling the blood drain from his face and his stomach dropping to the soles of his feet.

Jace's first thought was: _she could see the demon's true form and me under the cover of a glamour?_

But like all other rational thoughts, they disappeared like smoke in the wind. For a short moment in time that seemed to stretch across vast endless infinities, Jace forgot his own unforgettably magnificent name and where he was and _who_ he was.

He had dreamt of that voice a thousand times before for the past few months as only in his dreams, all was well and he could hear _her_ laughter and _her_ voice telling him she loved him. Jace considered pinching himself to see if he was a dream but he decided that if it were a dream, he didn't ever want to wake up.

He whirled around and saw the mundane girl huddled up by the alley wall, her breathing quick and her eyes wide. Her knees were pulled to her chest and her arms limp by her side, her chest rising and falling quickly.

 _Her green eyes._

Red, messy hair cascaded in tangled curls and loops down her shoulders, her slender hands trembling. Her lips was split in the middle, blood trickling down her chin and there was a shallow graze on her left cheekbone. There was a irritated, red abrasion on her chin, the first layer of skin having been scraped of in probably a fall as the demon had attacked her.

Jace felt his body warm and then go a solid zero degrees Celsius in no time at all, his feet feeling like they were cemented to the ground

 _Clary._

Jace had no doubts that this was the girl he had bumped into yesterday. Clary.

And Jace realized his dreams had never done her looks or her voice anything remotely justice.

He felt his vision blur slightly and world sway as his breath was stolen away from him like how she was all those months ago. He hated that he was having vision malfunction when he should be staring at her, savoring her beautiful features in case she was taken away from him again.

But he would never let that happen again.

Not when she was right before his eyes now, so close he could touch her and hug her and kiss her and tell her how much he had missed her and how much he loved her

Clary Clary Clary …

" _Answer me,_ _please."_ she begged, still huddled in a corner. To say the least, she looked terrified, her eyes a little wild, darting and shifting restlessly to every little movement.

He started towards her and she pushed herself closer to the wall, as if she could mold herself into the concrete and disappear. He paused, his hands up in caution, telling her he meant no harm.

Jace slowly went to her and kneeled down beside her, reaching out a shaky hand to brush the hair away from her face so he could see her fully, now moving in a way how someone would approach someone who had a loaded bazooka and was pointing a gun to the president's head.

He held his breath, afraid that when he touched her, she would fade away like a mirage. She didn't.

Instead, she flinched away from Jace's hand which was the least expected thing Jace could ever anticipate in a short list of things that could surprise him. "Please don't touch me," she gasped, her body shaking as she cowered in fear.

Those four words tore through Jace's heart painfully, ripping the already mangled heart to fine shreds.

 _Why couldn't she remember him?_

"Clary?" Jace said cautiously, willing her to recognize him.

Jace watched as her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting. Her searched her wondrous green eyes for even a shred of recognition and felt himself get crushed to fine smithereens by the fact that he found none.

It was unnerving to see Clary look at him with such fear and unknown in her eyes when she had always looked at him with a fiery passion that fueled her love for him.

Her voice was meek and unstable as she spoke. "How do you know my name?"

"Clary … don't you remember me?" Jace asked, hearing the layer of ice that was cracking on his voice. Clary shook her head fiercely.

Clary swallowed frightfully and narrowed her eyes slightly. " _Answer me! How do you know my name?_ "

She looked into his eyes and flinched again, her lips trembling though the fire in her eyes had returned, creating a defiant look to her. She was beginning to look like his Clary again.

Jace took a deep breath, the ice breaking and he felt himself plunge underneath into the cold and painful black void.

"Clary," was all he said before he showed her the runes that covered his arms.

"How do you know my name?" Clary asked, feeling sick to the pits of her stomach and lightheaded.

She stared into his odd golden eyes that watched her carefully and flinched.

 _This was the boy that plagued her horrific nightmares since she was little. The one always getting stabbed … the one that kissed her in one of her dreams._

At first, Clary thought her mind was playing tricks on her, the shock aftermath of the attack. But when he didn't go away, Clary was sure this boy was real.

"Clary, don't you remember me?" he asked, his voice cracking like ice towards the end.

 _Was he crazy? Of course I don't know you! I haven't even met you before!_ Clary screamed in her head though she couldn't force the words to her tongue to say them out loud. She shook her head violently, trying to clear her muddled, murky thoughts. It was like thinking through the distraction of an opium haze, minus the hallucinations and the feeling of floating as if you weighed like a plastic bag.

Not that Clary had personally experienced an opium haze.

" _Answer me!_ " she screamed instead. She looked into his golden eyes and flinched at the intensity of the emotion burning in his eyes.

She watched as his eyes filled up with pain and he took a deep breath.

"Clary," he said, and showed her a glove of black designs that decorated his arm. The same ones that were the cause of so many seizures and so many nightmares.

Clary stared in open mouthed surprise, falling her jaw hang as if it's hinges were loose.

"Who … are you? What are you?"

The blonde's face crumbled and it actually hurt Clary to see him so … broken.

"I'm sorry … but I'm not the Clary you are looking for," she said softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ears.

The blonde looked at her for a moment, eyes narrowed like a predator. All vulnerable emotions wiped clean of his face, a shiny, impenetrable shield of arrogance and confidence wrapping around him like armor.

"Fine. Let's just say you aren't my Clary. But how could you see that creature?" he questioned, in the midst of a soliloquy. He stood, swinging moods in a blink. Utter exasperation and arrogance laced his voice and Clary felt a pang of annoyance towards this boy. He paced in the alley, looking at her as if she were a science oddity created for his amusement and examination.

"Of course I could. I'm not blind," Clary said, annoyed as she slowly got to her feet. How could he have annoyed me this fast? Clary thought in amazement

Super powers, Clary thoroughly decided.

"Ah, but you are," he said, giving a smile that offered the presumption that she were a drooling idiot with the same amount of brain cells as an ostrich. "You're a mundane, since you aren't my Clary. Yet you can see the Shadow World. It's a conundrum … then again, you may not be a mundane at all. Like my Clary."

"What's a mundane? Besides the obvious dictionary entry."

The blonde sighed and a small, amused but devastated smile appearing on his face, none too friendly and none too kindly. "Someone from the human world. As in a human. People with fickle minds, enormous arrogance though they may not know it, no special abilities or powers -"

Clary groaned in frustration, cutting him off. "If I'm not a human then what am I?" Clary sighed in frustration. He was getting her nowhere.

The blonde looked at her, his golden eyes narrowed and his head cocking ever so slightly to the left, the look of utter arrogance and ease on his face.

"Let's go find out, shall we?"

A few seconds later, by what had to be the influence of dark, putrid magic and tribal spirit possession that enticed the mind, Clary was following the mysterious boy.

He didn't speak to her, just stared straight ahead as he walked.

"Where are you - we going?" Clary asked, trying to keep up. He had much, much, much longer legs compared to Clary's and had a quicker stride too, making it hard for Clary to keep up. She had to practically jog.

She was handling her attack rather well and merely decided that the shock and hyperventilation would come later when she was probably alone.

He didn't turn around to look or acknowledge her. "Your home. Wherever the hole is. I need answers and thats exactly where I'm going to go get them."

"My home? Why? My mother knows nothing about all this," Clary groaned, already panicking about what her mother who was completely and utterly against the idea of boys was going to say when this probable dyed blonde wannabe goth teenage boy who was into wicked tattoos and killing showed up on their front steps. She was so grounded.

Jace muttered something that sounded like 'that's what my Clary said too.

Clary rolled her eyes at his muttered comment.

Her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket and Clary ignored it, keeping a watchful eye on this possibly psychotic and extremely pronounced arrogant saviour slash jackass slash demon killer.

It cut off and rang again, buzzing and demanding. Again, she ignored it.

When her phone buzzed for a third time, the blonde whirled on her with the grace of dancer, glaring exasperatedly as if she were a very annoying fly that was about to be swatted into the wall.

"Answer that. Please. It's annoying," he said, annoyance lacing his tone. His eyes were hard, burning with a terrifying emotion that Clary couldn't quite decipher.

Clary looked at her phone with a soft sigh and saw the caller ID flash: Mom.

Clary sighed exasperatedly and hit the answer icon, bringing her phone to her ear.

"Hi, mom, I'm coming home. Don't worry, I haven't back up and fled to Wimbledon or eloped or anything," Clary groaned, pushing red hair out of her eyes

"No. Clary, I need you to run away. Far away. Don't come home, please. I want you to know I'm so sorry for keeping secrets. I wish I -" A crash sounded faintly in the background and Clary jumped, her body stiffening, her grip on her phone tightened to the point she was afraid she would crush it.

"Mom?" Clary gasped, her heartbeat quickening drastically. She could feel herself swaying as if she were at a very high peak with thinner air.

The line went dead and Clary swore loudly, the word foreign in her mouth, her blood pounding in her ears.

What was going on?

"Clary? What's wrong?" the blonde asked, clutching her wrist.

"Let go of me. Now," Clary hissed, glaring at him as she yanked her hand free but not without effort.

The blonde reached for her hand again and acting on pure impulse, heightened by the heaviness of the situation, landed a sharp slap on his cheek, a sharp but satisfying pain going through her palm as their skin made contact. The sound of skin against skin echoed into her ears, mild disbelief at what she have done momentarily stunning her.

He looked her in shock, his mouth slightly open. "Cla-"

Ignoring him, she took off running, praying that everything was alright at home.

She heard someone groan exasperatedly behind her but she didn't stop to turn and look back.

 **A/N - Hi guys! Now, if you're wondering why I'm using certain lines from the CoB movie for this book when Clary is saying the same things she said to Jace in the first one is because I'm following the books, not the movie. So technically, anything that I write in this book from the movie never really happened in the real books so it's not a rewrite. Confusing, I know.**

 **PS: If you hate me for making Clary forget Jace, go ahead. I kinda hate myself too ...**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. Demon

**Chapter 5: Demon**

Clary ran, her feet burning and her muscles protesting.

She didn't even stop to see if the blonde had followed her, just ran in the direction of her home.

She stopped momentarily by the corner of a busy street, not wanting or ever wishing to be squashed into a human pancake to the sidewalk by a passing SUV. It was not exactly a priority on any where on her to-do list.

When a few decent drivers stopped for her to cross, Clary began running again, sweat running down her temple even though cool wind blew in her face frequently.

She was grateful that she had memorized the streets like the back of her hand. Every breath that she took in was like fire razing down her windpipe and into her lungs, quenching the thirst for air but agony at the same time.

The distance seemed to stretch endlessly before her and she felt as if she was in one of those dreams where you would run for what felt like hours but ended up going nowhere.

Gritting her teeth, Clary told herself that each ringing sound of her shoes beating against the pavement or asphalt told her that she was really moving.

She skidded to a stop when she reached her house, bracing herself against the fence as she gasped.

The door was literally hanging open - by a single hinge. The wood was splintered here and there, sticking dangerously out.

"Mom? _Mom_?" Clary screamed at the top of her voice as she dashed into the ruined house.

Cautiously, Clary stepped in and nearly cried.

The windows were smashed and the pillows sliced open, stuffing spilling out like the insides of a gut. Her mother's much cherished coffee table was overturned and looked like someone had hacked at it with an axe or knife, the wood dented and cut. Black splotches of foul smelling liquid stained the carpets and frankly was burning holes through the cheap Persian carpets. Glass and wood splinters littered the floor.

"Mom?" Clary whispered, her insides feeling like someone had stuck it in a blender and put it on high.

Then Clary noticed the blood.

Fat drops of blood was splattered on the hardwood floor, resembling the house to a slaughterhouse.

Ice crawled up Clary's spine as she followed the blood that from drops had slowly morphed into smears, like someone's boot had slid and slipped on them. Maybe they had.

Her stomach churned and her head spun.

 _What had happened here? Did burglars break into the house?_

Clary looked back into the living room.

These burglars, if there were any, be bloody stupid burglars then.

Not one expensive equipment had been taken.

In fact, the New Age LCD television had spider-webbing all over the screen and was on the floor, faint wisps of smoke emitting from the ruined device.

"Mom!" Clary screamed, another wave of heart wrenching panic surging through her as she inched forward through the living room - looking like a mine had gone off in here. Her mother's room door was hanging open and Clary dared herself to entered.

The door was hanging ajar by only one rusted hinge, more blood - blood the color of oil slick and crimson alike - smeared on the once white painted wood. Clary slowly entered the room, her eyes on the black and red stains smeared in gruesome and grotesque patterns. She turned, hearing a thump.

A horrified scream ripped its way out of her throat as she skittered back against the wall. Her head slammed against the wall first - hard - but Clary was past feeling the pain.

Her mother - or what was left of her - was lying on the floor against a wall, staring at the ceiling blankly with only one eye. One part of her face - the left part which was missing an eye - had deep, sickening claw marks decorating her face, making her barely recognizable, the skin reduced to red strips. She had an arm missing while the arm that was still intact was missing a few fingers. They looked like they had been savagely gnawed off by a wild beast.

An icy terror overcame Clary as she pressed against the wall, tears of horror and grief streaming down her face

Even though she didn't want to, her eyes continued to stay glued to her mother's disfigured and - lifeless body. Her mother had been so beautiful and seeing her like this was like a physical open wound.

Slowly, Clary's senses came back to life and she realized that there was a panting and growling sound emitting from somewhere in the room. Clary eyes and ears followed the sound and she looked up at the ceiling across room.

Clary shot up and slowly backed away for the door, a greater fear and terror than the ones before completely swallowing her.

Already Clary couldn't think straight as she stared at the disgusting looking creature that hung from the ceiling.

It was eight feet long and very flat. The top of it's body was covered with hard shells that lay upon each other, faintly reminding Clary of an armadillo and it had enormous pincers that snapped at her every so often as it made chittering noises. It was reddish brown - the color of rust - and maggots and other disgusting critters crawled out from the cuts on its abdomen, making Clary gag. Wisps of black smoke rose from its body towards the heavens, ironically.

" _Don't run away …_ " the creature hissed as it slowly descended the wall.

Clary did the exact opposite of what it asked.

She turned and ran with all her energy.

The creature made a high, annoyed keening sound that stabs into Clary's ears as it made a leap for her.

She slammed the door of her mother's room, hearing it collide to the wooden door. She twisted the lock it, hearing the lock click. Knowing that the one hinged door wouldn't last, Clary begin to think of a contingency plan.

She heard it stumble and ram into the door after her as she made her way to the stairs avoiding the debris on the floor.

Clary took the stairs two at a time, jumping the last three before dashing into the kitchen.

She heard the door smash open - the hinge and lock giving way - and the first thing Clary did was grab the flammable oils from the cupboard, lay them out beside the stove and switched the gas on.

The demon howled as it thumped down the stairs and scuttled into the kitchen, looking furious and _murderous._

Clary screamed, fear devouring her again as she grabbed the lighter, her hand fumbling on the plastic. As the demon lunged for her, she retrieved a cleaver that hung on the wall and waved it in warning, knowing that there was a larger possibility of her injuring herself before she could kill the demon.

The demon made a chittering sound as if the sight of Clary wielding a weapon was hilarious to it. It crawled nearer and blindly, Clary threw herself forward, swinging her hand that held the cleaver. The cleaver buried itself in the side of the demon's flat face, if one could call it a face.

Howling in a fury that sent ice down Clary's spine, she didn't have to avoid the demon's tail that came flying at her as it spun around.

Clary felt the hard shell that protected the demon's tail slam against her stomach, making her groan before she flew off the ground, slamming against the kitchen wall, her head knocking back from the force. As she fell towards the ground, Clary shot her arms out to break her fall, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she awaited the pain.

When the sharp cuts and lacerations arrived, all Clary could do was cry out as he head spun, whirling around like an amusement park ride. She inhaled deeply and cringed at the smell that was wafting through the air.

Already, the whole room smelt of the ignition and highly and easily flammable gas.

The tangy, sharp smell burned her nostrils and lungs upon entry and made her stomach roil like a boat on unforgiving waves.

She staggered to her feet, hearing the demon chitter with delight at her pain. Clary realized that the wall that she was leaning on was by the doorway that led into the main room.

She glared at the demon before a small smile tugged at her lips, one that obviously left the demon baffled. Clary gripped the lighter tightly, smirked before throwing herself on the other the wall and flicking the lit lighter towards the demon.

She clasped her hands over her ears and heard the deafening bang as the fire met with its aggressor. She pressed her face against the wall and shielded herself, her tiny frame shaking.

Intense heat engulfed the air around Clary but the fire didn't touch her. The creature howled in agony as the fire exploded around itself, no doubt consuming it.

There was a loud ring in her ears as she pulled herself away from the wall, lowering her hands from her ears before she steeled herself to inspect the damage, praying that the demon was dead.

The kitchen was thrashed, black in some places while still burning in others. The fridge remained unharmed, looking perfectly preserved from the explosion. The cupboards and drawers had blown inwards, shattering the glass and wood they were made out of.

Clary made a face when she saw what was lying right before her.

Half of the creature was lying across the kitchen countertop, twitching like a dying insect. It's insides - hideous yellow, black and greenish goo and chunks - spilled onto the countertop, sizzling the plastic away. The other half was lying all over the place.

On the walls, the ceiling and the floor, looking like goo and mucus as it bit and sizzled away at the material it was on like phosphoric acid.

The creature whined and whimpered, seeming to finally go slack. Only i's many legs twitched but with lesser animation with each passing moment.

Satisfied with her work, Clary took a deep breath, gnashed her teeth together and slowly backed away before turning and running for the door.

As she was about to leave the kitchen, the skin on her nape prickled like a warning sign blaring off, alerting her of an oncoming danger.

Clary heard a screeching howl and she whirled -

Just in time to see the remaining half of the creature lunging for her, it's one remaining pincer extended and making the most feral and angry growl imaginable.

Clary felt agonizing and burning pain shooting through her right shoulder and down her arm.

There was the sound of a rip of fabric but Clary's vision faded as she felt herself fall, the darkness engulfing her.

A loud boom sounded in Jace's ears as the ground floor windows exploded outwards, sending sharp shards of glass flying in many directions; one of the direction was of Jace and the Forsaken army he was fighting.

Worry filled his chest.

 _Is Clary hurt?_ Jace thought as he plunged his blade into a Forsaken's heart. Even though she was probably _not_ his Clary, Jace still wouldn't believe it. But _his Clary would've remembered him._

He gritted his teeth pushing the pressing thought down as he focused on the last of the Forsaken.

Jace dispatched the last Forsaken with a quick slide of his seraph blade across her neck.

The Forsaken woman fell to the ground with a sickening thump of flesh hitting ground, her gaping, sliced open neck gaping at Jace like a bloody grin.

He cursed, looking at the bodies of dead Forsaken that littered the lawn of this house.

He glamoured them and dashed into the house, praying that his Clary was still fine.

 _She's not your Clary, Jace Herondale!_ She doesn't even know your name. _Your Clary_ would remember your name like she remembered Valentine, Sebastian. But, obviously, she doesn't! he screamed at himself in his head.

Jace followed his nose, going to where the smell of smoke, demon and fire was most strong at.

He turned just in time to see the demon drag one pincher down Clary's arm.

Jace dashed forward, so fast he couldn't even see his own movements. He plunged the seraph blade that was still in his grasp into the demon's already mangled heart, watching it fold in on itself as it disappeared out of existence in fine burst of fiery ash.

Clary now lay on the floor, her eyelids closed but fluttering.

Jace kneeled down beside her, looking at her wound.

She whimpered weakly in pain when Jace nudged at the cut.

The sound pierced through Jace as he shushed her gently. Unable to help his sorry self, Jace caressed her cheek, biting the inside of his mouth. Pulling himself back to earth, he shook himself and returned to the crisis at hand.

"Clary?" he said, ripping the hem of his black shirt. It came away easily and Jace wrapped it around her upper arm tightly like tourniquet, to stop the venom from flowing to any other part of her body.

 _Okay … deja vu?_ Jace thought as he secured the tourniquet.

She moaned, her eyelids fluttering before she became still, her breathing slowing.

"Clary?" Jace said, his eyes widening.

He cursed loudly once and took out his stele, drawing a Portal rune in the floorboards.

The shimmery transparent outline of a Portal appeared and Jace swung Clary up in his arms before plunging into _here and there_.

 **A/N - Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you like :D**


	7. Remembering Shadows

**Chapter 6: Remembering Shadows**

"Clary?" a voice asked through Clary's haze of darkness. It was as familiar as her own heart yet she couldn't place it …

 _Yes_ , she wanted to reply but her mouth felt glued shut, not able to open and speak.

Pain shot through her again and she whimpered pathetically.

She fought against every muscle that stayed taut, not allowing her to move.

She felt soft fabric being wrapped around her arm and tightened, sending a stab of pain up her arm. She moaned, trying to move her hand but it weighed like a thousand pounds.

It seemed that was all she could do. Moan, whimper, groan. All she could do was make pitiful noises.

There was an ache in her chest before a stealing, calming sense of drowsiness spread across her body. She could feel that her arms were at her command again but she felt too … released and at ease to bother trying.

Total darkness claimed her, though something small and hidden inside if her told her to stay awake, keep fighting. Though it would hurt like hell if she did. If she went to hell if she did.

She didn't acknowledge that part and the last thing she felt before she let the darkness have her was strong arms wrapping around her and herself plunging into an abyss of light.

Jace stumbled out of the Portal, Clary heavy and limp in his arms. He had ended up in the training room instead of the infirmary; for what goddamned reason that was going through his head, he didn't know.

"Alec!" he cried, laying Clary gently on the floor. " _Alec!_ " Jace yelled again, somehow knowing that his _parabatai_ was at the Institute. Thank the Angel for the strong bond _parabatai_ share.

He heard slow shuffles towards the training room and Jace knew immediately it was Alec's familiar tread he was hearing. Jace started to get annoyed.

" _Alexander Gideon freaking Lightwood!_ " Jace yelled, taking out his stele. "You sorry excuse for a Shadowhunter, hurry the goddamned _up_."

Alec appeared in the doorway a second later, looking annoyed. " _What the fu-?_ " Alec started before staring at the limp figure in Jace's arms. His mouth gaped open like a fish and closed again, his eyeballs in danger of falling out of their sockets.

"Is that … is that _Clary_?!" Alec gasped, staring at the unconscious teenage girl.

Jace rolled his eyes and growled. "No, this just happens to be a random redhead that I hooked up with in London and decided to show her a bit if the Shadow World of Jace," he said, his sarcasm as cutting as knives. But she wasn't _his_ Clary … she didn't know him or any of this crap …

"Jace, I -" Alec cut off, realizing his _parabatai_ was being sarcastic. "That _is_ Clary?" Alec gasped as he rushed to their side, kneeling beside the unconscious girl in his arms.

Jace didn't answer his question. Jace applied the stele to her forearm, drawing an _iratze_ but the the rune only disappeared like it was being drawn on water. Jace then proceeded to curse so loudly and fluently in English, Latin, Spanish and Romanian that Alec flinched.

"Jace?" Alec asked after Jace had cooled off.

"Just, at the moment, help me get her into the infirmary. A bloody Ghost demon got her and the runes aren't working … help me help her, Alec," Jace said and he could hear the desperation in his voice. With each passing moment, Jace knew that Clary slipped further and further away…

Alec nodded and Jace collected Clary in his arms again.

He remembered the time when he had brought _his_ Clary to the Institute for the first time, after she was stung by a Ravener except this time was much, much worse as it was Ghost demon venom in her veins this time.

 _Why did history have to repeat itself all over for Jace and feel twice as shitty second time around?_

Ahead of Jace, Alec shouldered the doors open with all his strength, making the double heavy set doors swinging back, hitting the wall and making a booming racket that echoed throughout the Institute.

Jace swung Clary in and gently laid her on one of the infirmary beds

Her skin was cold to the touch but she wasn't dead yet. He could still see the light flutter of a pulse in her neck and her pulse was dangerously slow and irregular but she was still alive.

Jace gritted his teeth, cursing all demons in this bloody world this time in Italian, French, Swedish and Chinese.

That's what Ghost demon venom does to its victim.

He remember what Hodge had thought him. First, it makes your body think you're dead. Your heart will stop when you actually need it still. Then the ability to breathe properly starts to rust up and hurt when you do. All these happen while the venom attacks the mind, giving you night terrors and making your body think youre enduring pain when you're really not. It was all mental but if youre brain didn't give up first, your body would.

The night terrors proud have been starting any minute now though they usually came after organ failure but that stage seems to have past for Clary, never really occurring.

 _She was strong enough_ , Jace chanted to himself, more for personal reassurance.

 _She's strong. Her heart can take it. She's stronger than anyone you've ever known._

Jace grabbed a vial of clear liquid and gently poured it in the gash.

Clary whimpered, fighting against Jace as the liquid burned her.

Alec appeared on the other side of her and held her down while she thrashed against her restraints.

"Shh," Jace hushed, gently pouring the liquid in her arm to dispel the demon venom … the rest, she would have to take by mouth. Not a fun thing to do.

Jace grabbed a cloth and dabbed the clear liquid away. Light yellow liquid which was the demon venom came away with the clear and Jace almost smiled. Almost.

"Prop her up," Jace said urgently. A thin layer of sweat had appeared on Clary's forehead and she had begun to make gasping noises, her head whipping from side to side violently.

Alec propped Clary against his shoulder while Jace gently poured the clear liquid into her mouth. Clary coughed, the clear liquid flowing out of her mouth.

"Swallow, goddammit," Jace growled, slowly pouring the liquid again.

Clary coughed but the liquid stayed down - most of it.

A tear fell from Clary's eye and it tortured Jace, knowing she was enduring pain now. Even if she _wasn't_ his Clary, he couldn't help but feel that she _is_.

"She should be fine, for now, Jace. I'm going to call Izzy. She would want to know," Alec said, his voice incredulous

His _parabatai_ turned to go but Jace grabbed him firmly by the arm, not taking his eyes off Clary's unconscious figure.

"Alec, no," Jace said through his clenched teeth as Clary cried out once, trashing. Alec yanked his hand back and Jace turned to look at him.

Alec looked extremely annoyed with Jace. "Jace, Izzy is Clary's _parabatai_. She has every right as much as you do to know about this," Alec hissed.

Jace lost it. He didn't know why but he was suddenly angered, annoyed and flustered.

"SHE ISN'T CLARY!" Jace yelled, glaring heatedly at Alec who looked taken aback from his _parabatai_ 's sudden outburst.

"What do you mean, Jace? How is this not Clary?" Alec pressed, looking at Clary and to Jace repeatedly.

Jace sunk to the floor, feeling pathetic, beside Clary's bed, burying his face in his hands and trying to block of his hearing as Clary started gasping and moaning and crying.

Jace heard Alec kneel on the floor in front of him. He put a hand in Jace's shoulder.

"Jace, what do you mean?" Alec said, his voice void of hope. Just pain. For himself, for Jace and Izzy.

"She's not Clary but her name is. Probably just a doppelganger. She doesn't know anything about the Shadow World or me. Even if she does, she doesn't remember," Jace said, sounding so depressed. Being around this girl brought memories of _his_ Clary. Even if she was his Clary, she wasn't truly _his_. She didn't remember him and that was as good as her not being Clary at all.

"Then, we'll make her remember. Jace, I believe if it's really Clary, she'll come ba-" Alec said but cut off when just then, Clary screamed loud, agonized and tortured screams, thrashing in the bed.

Jace leapt to his feet, putting a hand on her cheek. "Clary?" Jace said, feeling hopeless. "I thought the antidote would dilute and destroy the venom," Jace growled angrily.

Alec put a hand on his shoulder.

"You did and it will but the venom had gotten to her head first before the antidote. You need to let the terrors run their course," Alec said, looking at Clary in pain.

Clary's body buckled and arched off the bed as she screamed, shaking her head and crying.

" _Kill me already!_ " she cried, tears running in a endless, agonized stream down her cheeks.

"Clary," Jace hushed, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. He wanted to break down and cry himself as another scream tore through him like the time Valentine had plunged Malleartach into his chest but only this was much, _much_ worse. He couldn't help but really believe it was _his_ Clary screaming and being mentally tortured. Her screams quietened to sobs and moans as she gripped Jace's hand, holding on to it like a life preserver.

Then the shit hit the fan.

Maryse walked through the damned doors, looking annoyed.

"What is all that bashing and screaming I heard earlier?" Maryse said, not even noticing the unconscious girl in one of the bed, crying and moaning. Her eyes planted on Jace, kneeling on the bed while Clary clutched to his hand, sobbing.

Maryse finally locked her eyes on Clary, her face going pale and she took a step back.

"By the Angel," she gasped, horrified as Clary let out a loud, tortured scream that rang through the Institute and pierced Jace's ears. He clutched on to her hand and it was all he could do from dropping to the floor and crumbling away.

 **A/N - Thanks for your comments. They give me every reason to write.**


	8. A Lover's Question

**Chapter 7: A Lover's Question**

Isabelle felt Simon's cool arms wrap around her and his smooth, soft lips pressing into the crook of her neck. Though he wasn't vampire anymore, sometimes Simon's body temperature stayed on the cool side.

"What are you thinking about, Iz?" Simon said, his cool breath fanning her neck.

Honestly, she wasn't thinking about anything. Just blank, as usual.

"Nothing," Isabelle answered honestly, wincing at the lifelessness and eerie emptiness in her voice.

Simon sighed, guiding, her to the soft couch in their living room.

She leaned into him and sat on his lap as Simon sat on the couch. She wasn't worried that she was hurting Simon by sitting on his lap. He was a Shadowhunter. He was _strong_.

" _Talk_ to me, Iz," Simon said, looking at her.

Isabelle smiled weakly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Okay … what do you want to talk about?"

Simon chuckled. "Anything. Magnus's dress code, maybe?"

Isabelle swatted him lightly on the shoulder. "That's been discussed to many times and we've decided to keep it an eternal mystery."

"Agreed," Simon said, playing with a strand of Isabelle's dark hair.

"So … what _should_ we do?" Isabelle said, sounding resigned and bored. She craned her head around to look at Simon.

Simon was silent for a moment before a knowing smile appeared on his face. "I know something we _both_ can do and enjoy." Simon murmured as he buried his face in the crook of Isabelle's neck. He kissed the soft membrane of her neck lovingly, sending jolts of pleasure and joy through Isabelle in a way only Simon would be able to.

She wiggled around so she was now facing Simon. She straddled his waist, wrapping her long arms around his neck, not allowing escape. She played with his soft hair as he planted warm kiss after warm kiss after warm kiss on her neck. Her skin boiled where Simon had kissed her even though each kiss was gentle and sweet.

Simon placed his hands on her hips, not allowing her to escape. His kisses moved upwards to her jawline, to her cheek and finally stopping at the corner of her mouth.

He teased her, not moving to her full lips.

"We could play Scrabble," Simon suggested playfully though he said it in a serious tone.

Isabelle pulled back slightly to glare at him in the eye as she said "You'd never win anyways," before planting her lips on his.

His lips were soft, warm and delicious like a shot of water after hours of wandering in the Sahara desert.

The kissed each other passionately, Isabelle melting when she felt Simon's hand trail up north.

She felt Simon's hand trail up from her hip to her waist to her shoulder, lightly caressing her creamy skin. His hand snaked under her blouse, fiddling with the strap of her bra.

"I love you so much, Iz," Simon groaned, pulling back slightly to look at her. He gently brushed her dark hair out of her face. His eyes were hungry - hungry for her - with desire but restrained; but only barely.

Isabelle smiled weakly at him. She knew what temptations and hunger her body held for Simon and she loved that Simon somehow reacted to her body differently, each touch am awakening to his sharp senses.

Just then, Isabelle's phone rang, loud and demanding. She growled at herself for choosing such an annoying ringtone. She dismissed the call, annoyed at the caller for ruining the moment. A second later, the phone rang again, seeming more loud and annoying the second time around.

"Excuse me," she said, jumping off Simon in one swift motion. The Shadowhunter sat back, his hands behind his head as he enjoyed the view of Izzy's … backside area.

"Perv," she muttered under her breath as she pressed the answer button. "Hello?"

" _Izzy?_ Thank the Angel. We need both of you to come down to the Institute _now_ ," her brother said, sounding winded.

"The Institute? Why? I don't really want to, Alec. Besides, me and Si were about to indulge in the interesting conversation of your boyfriend's dress code," Isabelle said, winking playfully at Simon who wagged his eyebrows at her, begging her to return to his arms.

Alec groaned, muttering something that sounded like 'ducking Samuel' and Isabelle could imagine her brother rubbing the bridge of his nose in utter annoyance as he continued muttering curses about Simon. Finally, Alec took a deep breath to calm himself.

Isabelle Sophia Lightwood, stop being a brat, listen to your older brother for once and just get your butt down here or I swear by the Angel that I will drag your fat- Suddenly Alec made a sound of protest as the phone was yanked away from him, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

A piercing scream filled the background, a scream that had almost sounded like …

But it couldn't be …

" _Mom_ , did Alec just call me _fat_?!" Isabelle growled, feeling mildly annoyed. She pushed away the earlier scream that she had heard into the far corner of her mind.

" _Isabelle, you will come down to the Institute this minute_ ," her mother commanded, ignoring her earlier statement, her voice indicating there was no other option.

"But, mom …" Isabelle groaned.

"You will not argue with me on this matter, Isabelle," her mother said sternly.

"Can I bring Simon?" Isabelle asked, looking at Simon.

There was a short pause as Maryse considered. "Fine. Bring him as well. I guess this concerns him as much as it does you," her mother said, sounding dazed. This had Isabelle's heart doing a leap.

A Lightwood never looses their composure. Especially Maryse Lightwood.

" _Mom?!_ "

" _Just come here_ ," her mother urged as another scream filled the background, followed by a sob.

Isabelle hung up, throwing her phone on the couch and grabbing her handbag which was filled with a Shadowhunters daily needs-a couple of seraph blades, her stele, a dagger, a small pouch of silver and the most important item of all-some double strawberry mint chewing gum.

"Going somewhere, Iz?" Simon asked, getting to his feet, Isabelle's phone in his grip. He handed it to Isabelle who quickly took it and stuffed it into her bag.

"Not just me. Both of us are. Mom needs us at the Institute," Isabelle said, opening the door. Simon sighed, stretching before slowly getting to his feet.

"Simon, I love you but the snail Olympics were two months ago. We need to go. Like, _now._ "

Simon's eyebrows furrowed but he nodded, taking Isabelle's hand.

Jace was jolted awake from his sleep by Clary moaning, her hand fisting tightly and unclenching in the sheets.

The screaming had calmed a few minutes ago, now reduced to hysterical cries, sobs, moaning and mumbles.

Jace stared at her face, twisted in pain, agony and torture. He felt his own pain and he sighed, sitting back in his chair.

He looked down at himself. Honestly, he was a mess.

His hair wasn't its perfect state and there were probably deep bags under his eyes. He had had better days.

After Maryse had burst into the infirmary, they had taken a long, unpleasant and heated argument on whether if they should inform the Clave, Jocelyn and Isabelle about Clary. Alec had been split in the middle-as usual-between his parabatai and his mother. Eventually, they had decided to keep this from the Clave at the moment, until they found out more and save Jocelyn the grief if this girl wasn't her daughter.

But not from Isabelle.

Call them sick and cruel or stupid but they had all agreed that Isabelle - as Clary';s _parabatai_ \- should be allowed to know.

Maryse had walked out of the infirmary to call Isabelle a minute ago while Alec had gone down to the gates to wait for his sister and Simon's arrival.

She needed to know about Clary …

And his Clary or not, she was Nephilim.

They had spotted the faint scar of a _Clairvoyance_ rune on her hand, not bothering to check earlier which was probably one of the stupidest mistakes in Jace's ever growing list. But the funny things is, the Clairvoyance rune that was on the hand of every Shadowhunter was one of the _permanent_ runes.

As in runes that were etched onto the skin for the rest of eternity and didn't _fade_ into the skin like an _iratze_.

Jace groaned exasperatedly at the conundrum of this situation, his head spinning.

Permanent runes couldn't _fade_ into skin but only disappear fully when a Shadowhunters was stripped of his/her Marks.

"Are you _my_ Clary?" Jace whispered, leaning forward.

Clary sobbed loudly once, a tear trailing down her cheek. She gripped his hand painfully before it loosened and she carried on with her ragged breathing and unconscious state.

Jace bowed his head, hair falling into his eyes as he rested his creased forehead against Clary's hand.

 **A/N - I know this chapter was quite short and I'm sorry for that but I'll update soon. Thanks a million.**


	9. Parabatai

**Chapter 8: Parabatai**

The Sun went behind the cloud and Alec practically begged for its return.

Autumn was passing and so that meant winter was on its way. Alec groaned at that.

He was waiting for Isabelle, pacing as he did.

His mind was running wild with the past hour's occurrences.

 _Clary!_

She was alive! But why couldn't she remember?

Alec seriously and truly doubted that there was another Clary on Earth that was Nephilim, looked like Clarissa Fairchild.

 _This was Clary. But why couldn't she remember? And why would the Clave pronounce her dead? Hell, how did the whole bloody London Shadowhunters and Downworlders not even recognize her? She was_ the _Clarissa Fairchild!_

Alec had half the mind to kick the Inquisitor in the 'where it hurts' spot. Even if she was a girl. Up and a little to the left.

 _But how could it be Clary? There was a body ..._

Alec shook his head violently to dispel the thoughts. She _is_ Clary …

His _parabatai_ had almost gone off the rails from that piece of news. Alec should -

"Alec!"

Alec looked up, his pacing halted momentarily.

Isabelle was running towards him, Simon a few feet back, his eyes worried.

She burst through the front metal gates, slowing to a walk, Simon following her. He tried to keep up with Isabelle's long strides and ended up in a jog.

"Alec … what's wrong? What's so important?" Isabelle said, her forehead creased.

Alec bit his lip. How was he going to tell his sister that Clary wasn't dead and was lying unconscious in one of the infirmary beds?

"Why don't you come in first?" Alec said, his eyebrows mashed together in worry. He looked over Izzy's shoulder and saw Simon looking annoyed, tired and trying to regain his breath. God knows how long they had been running.

"What's going on Alec?" he asked, his forehead creased.

"Something big. Deep, deep shit," Alec muttered, pressing impatiently for the elevator. Stupid piece of metal junk. Stupid mundane equipment.

"What?" Isabelle pressed impatiently. "Is it Jace? Is he okay?" she asked, her voice high, strung and worried.

"Yes and … no. You'll see what I mean," Alec mumbled.

The elevator door opened and they stepped in, Alec nervous, Isabelle impatient and Simon clueless looking.

The elevator made it's torturously slow ascension.

When the elevator stopped, Alec quickly got out.

His mother stood outside the doors of the infirmary, looking worried.

They practically ran there before a loud, piercing scream stabbed into their ears and making the blood pound underneath the skin. Alec could hear Isabelle and Simon skid to a halting stop behind him.

Isabelle paled immediately while Simon looked disbelieving. "That almost sounded like …"

Another scream sounded through the halls and Isabelle shot forward to Alec while Simon started planted where he was, shocked looking, like he was in a reoccurring nightmare that went on for hours on end.

Their mother was in front of of them in half a second, her hands held up.

Simon shakily made his way to them, pale as he pushed up his glasses.

"Stop, Shadowhunter," Maryse hissed, a hand up. "You will go no further. Your invite into the Institute expires at this point. On the grounds of my Keeping, I forbid you to continue. This is an order from the Keeper of the New York Institute."

It had appeared like Simon had rammed into an invisible wall. He pressed his hands against the barrier, looking murderous.

" _Mother_ ," Isabelle hissed, taking a step closer to her mother. Alec's eyebrows furrowed. Why wasn';t his mother allowing Simon in?

"No. Simon Shadowhunter will wait. You need to see her first," their mother commanded.

"His name is just Simon, mother! And I - wait … who and what do you mean by 'her'?" Isabelle's voice had started to tremble. Alec felt a pang of grief for his sister.

"She's in the infirmary," his mother said, more gently, taking Isabelle by the waist.

Simon growled lowly. Alec looked at him pitifully.

"Coming, Alexander?" his mother asked, looking back.

"No … I'm gonna stay with Simon," Alec said, looking at his sister's boyfriend with his teeth bared as he glared at them. His mother nodded and steered a resistant Isabelle towards the infirmary.

Alec made his way over to Simon who's fangs had retracted and was just glaring at Alec now.

"Let. Me. Pass." he said through gritted in a faulty intimidating man voice, trying to scare Alec though he should know better than to even think of trying.

"Can't."

"You can't or you don't want to?" Simon hissed, pouting with his eyes narrowed. Alec rolled his eyes at Simon's childish manner.

"Can't." Alec repeated. "She's got more authority than me in banning you from entering. She actually _guards_ this place."

Simon raised his eyebrows, the look of ' _there isn't a difference, doofus_ ' on his face.

"There is a difference. I actually just _live_ here," Alec said, plopping down on the wall beside the invisible barrier. He knew he could cross it if he wanted but he was afraid Simon would attack him.

"Why can't I pass? I'm not a vampire! I'm a Shadowhunter. These things don't apply to me! Didn't someone inform that to vampire rules?" Simon groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"It's some sort of spell. I think Magnus put it there. I guess you can break it, if you're strong enough," Alec said doubtfully. This was New Age magic. A spell Magnus had developed on his own.

"Great. So not only is the world being unfair to me but I'm not strong enough? Way to take a whack at my self esteem. Go on. You have about two more tries," Simon said, crossing his arms.

"It works on everybody - vampires, werewolves, fae, warlocks and Shadowhunters - if it makes you feel better," Alec said, shrugging.

"What's going on, Alec?" Simon demanded, plopping down next to Alec from the other side of the wall.

"Lots of shit, Simon. Damn hell of a crap load," Alec sighed as a scream rang through the hallway, into his ears and Simon's who flinched, letting a hiss at the sound.

Isabelle's heart slammed painfully against her ribcage as she was guided into the infirmary by her mother.

A scream had pierced into Isabelle's ears and she could almost swear on the Angel she was going crazy. The scream had sounded just like …

The infirmary door was closed, only a sliver of light escaping the small gap.

"I'll let you get some privacy," her mother said, patting her hair.

Isabelle opened the door and slinked in, quickly closing it after herself.

The first thing she saw was Jace, his gold crowned head bowed over something … _someone_.

Jace looked up when he heard Isabelle walk in, his eyes dry and glassy, void of any emotions except bitterness and pain.

Isabelle's gaze followed the arm and she skittered back a step, slamming into the door loudly, barely even feeling the pain as her head and back slammed on the door.

She could feel the already fragile foundation pillars of her mind break with a sequence of destruction.

 _Snap. Snap. Snap._

 _Break. Break. Break._

 _Crumble. Crumble. Crumble._

 _Smash. Smash. Smash._

 _Bye bye sanity._

Jace didn't approach Isabelle but his eyes were filled with vulnerabilities that only Isabelle, at this moment, would ever, ever see.

Sadness, grief, anguish, hopelessness, torture, agony, heartbreak, anger ...

Isabelle sank to the floor in disbelief, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

 _Clary._

 _Clary. Clary. Clary._

 _Clarissa Adele Fairchild._

 _Her parabatai._

"No, no, no, no, no …" Isabelle moaned as she slowly came back to life after what felt like eternity of sitting against the door.

She got up, staggering over to Jace … and Clary. She felt that her heart was stuck in her throat.

Looking over the girl that lady in the bed unconscious, Isabelle felt her mind explode … or in this case, implode. It really _was_ Clary.

The same nosy girl that had stumbled into their lives over two years ago incidentally at a club, the same fiery redhead that charged head on into a vampire hotel to save her best friend who had the unlucky fate to change into a vermin, the same Clary that had stopped the first of the many wars they had faced with nothing but a stele and sheer ferocity and love, the same girl that had received the same _parabatai_ rune as Isabelle, making them parabatai, sisters in arms.

"Clary …" Isabelle moaned, brushing a hand over her dirty face. Her clothes were torn in places and she was streaked all over with sweat, blood and grime.

"Jace?" Isabelle asked, looking at her brother.

He didn't say anything, just continued staring at Clary.

Isabelle plopped down next to Clary's bed, her breathing ragged as she tried to process what was happening.

She had never said or showed it much but it was the holy truth that Isabelle loved Clary like she loved Alec and Jace, always thought of her as a sister and best friend. Looking at Clary like this, it was a painful as a knife being drove into her stomach.

Without any warning, Clary's body bunched and she let out a terrifying scream that set Isabelle's nerves on edge and her teeth gritted. She pulled her legs to her chest and clamped her hands over her ears, her own screams drowned by Clary's.

 **A/N - Thanks for reading! Keep the reviews coming, I really appreciate them :D**


	10. Nightmares

**Chapter 9: Nightmares**

It was dark, dark and cold all around Clary.

She was buried so deep … _too_ deep. She tried to find her way back to the surface but something pressed against her mind, preventing her from doing so. There was a flash of pain in her mind, torturing her.

A swirl of images that burned her mind appeared. She could feel herself screaming but whether it was mental or not, she didn't know.

Another replaying of images that acted as night terrors started again.

 _The dagger slowly entered Clary's stomach once again and she screamed in pain, hot tears streaming down her cheeks._

" _Clarissa," the fair haired boy hissed, pressing his lips to hers, silencing and swallowing her agonized screams. Her lips stayed taut and clamped shut - they could've been cemented together for all it did for him. But he didn't give up._

 _Clary kicked her legs out forcefully, pushing him away._

 _He staggered back, the dagger which was slick with her blood pulled out of Clary's stomach painfully. She caught the initials SWH on the blade but she couldn't remember why it sounded so familiar._

 _Blood streamed out of the multiple stab wounds, dripping sickly onto the floor. And yet, somehow, she couldn't die._

 _She had cried for mercy once - for the mercy of death. She had stood her ground but that time it had hurt bad - so badly. But he had laughed, kissing her and telling her "Pain strengthens us, Clarissa. Remember what father had taught us?"_

 _Clary glared balefully at him, her undiluted and fatal loathing and disgust for him the only things that kept her strong._

 _He only laughed, running a hand through his white hair. "Come now, sister. Don't look at me like that. That's not how you look at someone whom you love, do you now?" he purred, crouching to look at Clary in the eye._

 _Clary gathered the salty blood and spit in her mouth and spit on his black leather shoes. Black Shadowhunter shoes._

" _You disgrace the uniform and the Marks, demon," Clary hissed, glaring at him with so much hatred the concentration could melt glass._

 _A look of fury crossed his fine boned features before his face enveloped into a mask of amusement and confidence. "I don't care Clarrisa," he crooned, pushing the wild lock of hair that fell into Clary's eyes back. Clary flinched at the contact of his vile, cold skin against her hot one. He continued, "And neither should you. You are my sister … a Morgenstern. We were meant to rule together … love each other," he hissed and Clary suddenly felt nauseous at his words. It made her feel like retching and maybe jumping off a building._

" _I only will and ever love one person and sadly for you, it's not you," Clary spit, every uncomfortable movement tied to this chair sending stab after stab of pain into her wounded abdomen. She bit her bottom lip, biting back a whimper. Her hands were curled into tight fist, her nails biting deep into the skin, leaving red, bloody crescent marks on her palm. She fought against the two centimetres width demon ichor soaked ropes but it only burned her skin and bit into the flesh with each twist and yank._

 _He gripped the top of her hair, yanking her head back forcefully. His black eyes burned with rage and loathing for him. The true holder of Clary's heart._

" _Hold your eager horses, Clary," he growled, smiling. "Remember what the witch said to your golden boy? 'You will fall in love with the wrong person'. Ring a bell, sister?" he said spitefully. The words stabbed deep into Clary's heart. "Hell, he could even be lip locking with someone else as we speak so you might as well give up and love me, Clarissa."_

" _One, only you're speaking and I'll never truly, willingly love you. Even if my life, my mother's, my family's and my love's life depended on it. Never. Not even in hell which I'm sure you'll -" she was cut off when he yanked on her hair painfully and put the tip of the dagger to her stomach._

" _You_ will _learn to love me, Clarissa!" he growled, kissing her neck greedily. Clary shuddered and squirmed and flinch when he nibbled at the flesh. She could feel his sharp teeth draw blood and his tongue lapping it up. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Not out of pain but this time out of grief and betrayal. Cold fingers moved under her, inching to her bra clasp. The contact of his cool fingers against her bare skin making her shudder and flinch. The clasp was undone and she sobbed out a cry._

 _ **I'm so sorry -**_

 _Her thought was cut off by her scream of agony as the dagger had been plunged into her again._

 _She clamped her eyes shut as tears threatened to flow._

 _With a sense of nauseousness, Clary felt the dagger twist sickly and coldly and mercilessly in her stomach, another scream tearing and ripping itself free from her throat._

 _Clary realized that her throat actually felt torn._

 _Blood was pumping and spilling from the deep gash, coating her shoulder and spraying onto face and shirt. Her neck felt hot and raw, making her want to scream. But when she tried, blood flowed from her mouth and over her chin._

 _She looked at the fair haired boy in horror at what he had done but he was changing._

 _As he pulled away from Clary's throat - his lips and chin stained and dripping with fresh crimson - he started to change._

 _The sickly white color of his hair grew darker and curlier … changing into a fine dark gold. His features changed too, changing into someone else's who was terrifyingly familiar._

 _He's skin grew slightly tanner and golden, black runes etching and curling themselves on his bare arms on their own. And when he looked up, when his eyes met Clary's, she screamed._

 _The endless black pits that were once his eyes had turned into emerald green eyes that matched her own before morphing into familiar deep gold, watching her with lust and amusement and arrogance._

 _Even though she shouldn't be able to scream, a spine chilling and earth shattering shriek of horror ripped its way out of her raw throat. She flinched and turned her head away sharply, hearing the fragile and thin flesh of her neck tear slightly._

 _He gently grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his golden eyes._

 _A few tears escaped as she shook her head at him. He knew she couldn't fight him … not him … and he knew it too._

" _Love me, Clary." he murmured desperately as he brought his bloody lips onto Clary's … the cold and void of warm emotion kiss tasting of death and lust and blood._

Clary was thrown back into her body … or clear state of mind … whatever it was called. She screamed and cried at the dream for a reason unknown to her. Her breathing picked up as she continued screaming. And all too soon, a rushing cold darkness that numbed her senses and stole her temporary clarity of mind overcame her, pulling Clary into another void of muddled terrors and nightmares.

 _Clary stood in the middle of a dying field, the grass yellow and dry, crackling when the wind brushed against them. The sky looked like an apocalyptic sky; black, roiling and thunderous clouds, orangey red sky and crows and eagles soaring, eyeing her like prey._

 _Clary looked down at herself and realized she was wearing a long, flowing white dress that was laced at the bottom. She was barefoot, the grass picking and tickling her soles. Her hair was in its original state; wild and curly and red as the wind blew and whipped it across her face. She realized she was gripping a hard translucent blunt object which glowed slightly._

" _Clary," a soft voice called out - familiar and loved but yet alien to Clary at the same time._

 _She turned - almost dreamlike - to face a boy who was shirtless and in black leather pants stood ten feet from where she stood. Clary stared. Complicated marks made a bracelet around his hands and wrapped around his torso. He was broad-shouldered and had narrowed hips, muscles wrapping his being lightly. But those weren't the things that made Clary stare._

 _It was the majestic pearl white wings that sprouted out from in between his shoulderblades was what had caught her attention. They flapped almost unconsciously by the boy in the wind. On closer inspection, Clary could see that the very tips of the feathers were dipped in fine gold._

 _He stared back at her, his face remorseful and sad._

" _I'm sorry I couldn't save you from him, Clary," he choked out, his unusual gold eyes burning intensely._

" _From who?" she murmured, confused. What was going on?_

 _The golden boy didn't say anything but just stared past Clary, his gaze turning into a glare, fueled with anger, loathing and anguish. Clary's brows furrowed momentarily before she followed his glare._

 _Another boy - also standing ten feet away from her - was smiling - no … grinning maliciously and arrogantly at her. He too, was shirtless but blood red marks and symbols ran up and down his abdomen instead of the golden boy's black ones._

 _He had fathomless tunnels for eyes that glinted with amusement. And instead of pure white and gold wings, this boy had soulless black wings that literally dripped with blood and death._

 _There was a growl from behind Clary - it was the golden boy, Clary realized._

" _Hello, Clarissa," the shadow boy growled, his mouth caressing her full name. She flinched at the sound of it._

" _Don't touch her," the golden boy growled as the shadow boy took a step towards Clary. Clary turned to the golden boy who looked like he wanted to kill the shadow boy._

" _Too late, angel boy," the shadow boy said, his tone laced with arrogance, amusement and sadism._

 _Clary tried to walk in the golden boy's direction but her feet stayed planted to the ground._

 _She felt strong and cold arms wrap around her. It was the shadow boy, Clary realized._

 _A sudden feeling of hate and fear for the shadow boy overcame her as she flinched away from his touch which was as welcome as maggots on her skin._

" _Let me go!" Clary growled. The shadow boy merely laughed._

" _I think she said let her go," a soft voice growled, the words as sharp and dangerous as a venom coated blade. The golden boy stood a feet from where Clary stood. He had a strong hand on the shadow boy's arm which was wrapped around Clary._

" _I don't think so, angel boy," the shadow boy growled._

 _Clary suddenly found herself airborne, her limbs flailing helplessly as she was thrown through the air. She landed as a heap on the dry grass, pain and agony shooting up her arm and her head as it slammed onto the hard ground._

 _Her vision blurred but when it redefined again, she was witnessing a battle of dark and light._

 _The golden boy - or the angel boy, as the shadow boy called him - and the shadow boy were interlocked in a tight match, both literally moving at the speed of light._

 _Vicious growls and snarls and groans echoed from the two boys as their fists, legs and elbows connected with each other._

 _In a sudden, both boys had drawn swords. The sound of metal clashing with metal echoed around them - Clary flinching at the sounds._

" _Stop," she whispered, cringing at the sound of a cry as blood was drawn from one of them._

 _The boys continued their violent battle, an occasional cry or growl of pain audible when someone was injured._

" _Please stop," Clary pleaded, wanting the violent games to end._

 _The golden boy was given a mighty blow to the shoulder by the shadow boy who was grinning triumphantly as the golden boy fell to his knees. The shadow boy stood before the golden boy, kicking him onto his back and raising his sword, aiming for the heart._

" _ **Ave atque vale**_ _, angel boy," the shadow boy murmured maliciously as he brought the sword down._

" _ **Stop! Please! Enough!**_ " _Clary screeched, her throat hurting._

 _The shadow boy froze his actions, the sword a threatening inch from the golden boy's collarbone. He looked at Clary sharply, studying her for a half second with his black eyes. And that half second was all it needed._

 _The golden boy seized his opportunity and swiped the legs of the shadow boy from under him with a grunt._

 _The shadow boy crashed to the ground with a groan and suddenly, the golden boy was kneeling on the shadow boy; one knee to his chest holding him in place while his other knee was on the ground._

" _ **I told you to not touch her**_ _," the golden boy growled and plunged his sword into the shadow boy's chest._

 _Clary screamed once in horror, backing up._

 _The shadow boy howled in agony once before he became completely motionless, staring sightlessly at the dark red sky above them._

 _The golden boy looked up, his eyes emotionless. Black was spreading along his white and gold wings from his shoulderblades, tainting the purity of the colors._

" _Clary?" he asked as he walked towards her._

 _Clary backed away from him._

 _He had killed the shadow boy without a sense of remorse or doubt. Clary had been afraid and could have probably been harmed by the shadow boy but to see someone getting killed like that._

 _Clary screamed._

The vision disappeared in a second and Clary was slammed back into her own mind where she could think freely.

The silence and darkness she was trapped in was suffocating and torturous as she struggled to go to the surface. She fought against the pressure holding her captive in her mind but when she fought with a thousand percent, the pressure retaliated with two thousand.

She screamed silently for escape but fatigue washed over her and she gave in, her mind blanking out.

A few seconds, it seemed, Clary felt free and realized she could move and that there was no more pressure on her mind.

Taking a deep breath, Clary opened her eyes and gazed above her, realizing that someone was clutching her hand.

She followed the hand to the face and froze, her heart picking up speed.

 **A/N - Thanks for reading! :D**


	11. Where They Seek Refuge

**Chapter 10: Where They Seek Refuge**

Clary's eyelids fluttered open and she saw a clear blue sky above her, white puffy clouds and chubby angels with gilded ribbons trailing from their wrists. Her body felt like rusted clockwork; her joints and muscles taut and aching.

 _Am I dead?_ Clary wondered. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. This time, she realized she was staring at an arched wooden ceiling painted with a rococo motif of clouds and cherubs.

There was a light pressure wrapped around her hand. Clary looked, seeing another hand - a scarred hand with long, slender and graceful fingers - clutching onto hers lightly, barely with any strength at all. Clary followed the hand up the arm - only to see a blond head resting against the arm, asleep.

She craned her head slightly to get a better look at his face and froze.

Her terrors flooded back into her mind - her torture and the shadow boy and the angel boy one - and she harshly _yanked_ her arm and backed away as much as the white springy bed that was similar to the long row of similar beds with metal headboards she was on allowed.

It was _him_. The boy that had saved her in the alley and the one that plagued her night terrors at the same time. Unfortunately, the latter got to her.

He woke up immediately the moment her hand left his grasp, looking a bit dazed for a fortieth of a second before his eyes widened and his lips parted slightly at the sight of Clary sitting up. He pushed his curly long blond hair out of his eyes, looking distressed.

"Clary?" he murmured, reaching out his hand to touch her.

" _Don't touch me!_ " she screamed, forgetting that she was already the edge of the bed and fell off and onto the cold floor below. Pain shot up her tailbone when she hit the floor - hard. Terror and fear engulfed her though she tried not to let her emotions show.

"Clary!" he gasped, surprised. She heard him stand up from his seat, the chair scraping across the floor loudly.

Swiftly, he walked to the other side of the bed and was in front of Clary, his face still surprised and shocked.

"C'mon, sit on the bed." he said, stretching out his hand, trying to be gentle.

"Please, don't touch me!" she squeaked, cringing into the wall. Somewhere deep down, she knew her current actions were preposterous but her mind kept thinking of the dreams that he plagued … where he tortured her.

His eyebrows furrowed and hurt flashed in his eyes for a second. He straightened up quickly, looking at her warily for a second before taking a deep breath and yelling "Isabelle!"

Clary involuntarily cringed at the volume of his voice.

Hurried footsteps were heard and soon a ridiculously beautiful girl with long dark hair rushed into the room, her lacquered ebony colored eyes frantic. She had high cheekbones and porcelain pale skin. She was tall, making Clary feel shorter than she already was. She wore a vintage lace blouse that was frilly at the fabric hugged her perfect curvy and slender body perfectly in all the right perfect places. She wrote skin tight black pants and mid-calf leather boots that clicked against the hard floor. Unusual black designs ran up her arms and peeked out from the neckline of her blouse, curling and curving.

"What is it, Jace?" she breathed, looking at the blond boy.

Clary guessed this was Isabelle.

Her dark brown eyes narrowed in on Clary, noticing her, and widened in shock for a moment. Her expression softened as she neared Clary whose heart was thumping rapidly in her chest, grinding against her ribcage.

 _Oh God, what had she gotten stuck into?_ she thought, biting her lip.

"Clary?" Isabelle said cautiously, kneeling in front of Clary and acting in a way how someone would approach an injured kitten.

"Where am I?" Clary asked a bit hysterically, wondering if she would get an answer.

Isabelle's brow furrowed. "You're at the Institute. The New York Institute." Isabelle said, her tone implying that Clary already knew all of this.

"Why am I here?" she asked, her eyes locked on Jace in case he made any sudden movements.

Jace cut in before Isabelle could say anything.

"You were stung by a Ghost demon. You passed out." Jace said, sitting on the bed Clary once occupied. He looked at her intently, his eyes troubled and hurt.

"Why couldn't you send me to a normal hospital? Why here?" Clary asked, dark thoughts running in her mind. No point in denying … she was scared of Jace and this new environment.

Jace exhaled exasperatedly. "You were stung by a _demon_. Mundane hospitals wouldn't be able to help you much less keep their cool if you disintegrated before their eyes."

"Mundane? What - ? Oh … human. Okay," Clary said, remembering what the word 'mundane' meant. Jace looked at her appreciatively; for a moment before his face returned emotionless.

"Do you feel sick or anything?" Isabelle asked, shifting nervously.

"No … I don't think so." Clary said, very aware that she was still curled up on the floor.

Apparently Jace noticed too because he got up and retreated to the foot of the bed, emotionlessly jerking his head towards the bed. "Sit," he ordered, crossing his arm across his chest.

Still keeping an eye on Jace, Clary shakily sat on the bed, immediately curling into a ball.

"Can I please … go home?" Clary asked.

"Clary, you're in New York. You _are_ home," Isabelle said, her eyebrows furrowing. Jace opened his mouth to speak.

Then Clary remembered.

The blood, the demon, her mother's dead and mangled body …

A tear slid down her cheek, silent sobs racking her chest. Bloody images flashed in her head and behind her eyelids which were scrunched together tightly. This wasn't one of those painful flashes that made Clary black out … no … this was just a painful memory that kept repeating and planting itself in her head like a bloody broken record.

"Clary!" Isabelle gasped.

Clary felt the bed dip down slightly and someone's arms wrapping around her, pulling her into the person's chest. Thinking it was Isabelle, Clary willingly leaned in, letting her sobs destroy her.

Clary's heart quickened drastically when she realized it was probably Jace but she didn't pull away, needing the feeling of comfort. Tears streamed down her cheeks helplessly, her sobs broken and grieved. It only took another second for Clary to confirm it was Jace and another to calm her heightened panic.

His hands stroked her hair soothingly while the other held her close gently. "It's alright, it's alright ..." Jace hushed, knowing exactly why she was sobbing.

"Why _her_? My mom?" Clary gasped, her hands wrapped around herself to keep herself from falling apart.

Slowly, she could feel herself falling apart, bit by bit, piece by piece, cell by cell. And it _hurt_.

"Jace, what am I going to do?" Clary cried, her salty tears staining his black shirt.

Clary suddenly felt extremely bipolar. One moment she was scared shitless by this boy and now she was sobbing and seeking console from this boy. _What was happening to her?_ She was going out of her mind, she knew it.

"Why is she crying, Jace?" Isabelle asked, her voice worried and quivering.

"Remember what I told you, Iz." he said, still soothing her by stroking her hair. Eventually (a long, long, long eventually later), Clary pulled away, her eyes feeling swollen and dry though tears still fell.

Isabelle bit her lip, her eyes worried.

"Where and what am I going to do now?" Clary asked, curling into a ball again, tears falling unpaused.

"You could stay here, Clary ..." Isabelle suggested almost a bit too expectantly while Jace shot her a dagger glance, his hand clenching into a fist.

"No … I don't belong here. Or in any of this. I'm a mundane, even if I _can_ see you guys." Clary said stubbornly.

"You do belong, Clary." Jace said softly.

Clary looked at him sharply. "I do not. Yeah … I may be able to see you but I'm sure there other are mundanes that can too."

"But you're not a mundane. Not in the least." Jace said. He suddenly grabbed Clary's hand, making her flinch involuntarily. Jace relaxed his grip slightly but still kept a firm hold on her hand, not allowing her to pull her hand away.

"What is _this_?" Jace demanded, pointing to her faint silvery eye shaped scar. She cringed at the look of it.

"A scar." Clary answered.

"And how did you require that scar, may I ask?"

"My father." Clary answered in a small, bland voice. It hurt, talking about her sadist of a father, knowing she had never felt paternal love. "When I was young, he would … _brand_ me. Causing those type of scars." She grimaced slightly at the last part.

Jace gritted his teeth, bringing his other hand - his left - beside the hand he was using to hold Clary's hand.

Clary stared at the ink black design on his hand, an exact replica to her silvery eye scar except this one was inked.

"How ...?"

Jace released her hand, pointing to his left hand.

"This, Clary, is the rune of Clairvoyance. It's burned onto every Shadowhunter's hand and seeing that you have one ..." Jace let the sentence hang delicately in the air. Isabelle offered her right hand which was also had the Clairvoyance rune on it.

"Runes?" Clary asked, relaxing slightly from her tight ball though grief still hung heavy in her chest like a physical burden.

"These." Jace said, pointing to the black designs on his arms. "Or Marks, as known to Shadowhunters." Jace explained.

The infirmary door flung open again for the second time, this time a tall boy with messy uncombed black hair and lively blue eyes that sparkled like lamps walked in, wearing a disheveled grey shirt and a pair jeans that had a hole in one knee.

"Clary," he breathed and immediately, Clary felt scared and confused all over.

 _How did these strangers know her name?_

"I'm sorry … do I know you?" Clary said though it was a rhetorical question to her. She didn't.

He stopped in his tracks, one hand cupping the back of his neck awkwardly. "Er … it's complicated. Technically you - "

"Alec," Jace said, cutting the tall boy off swiftly. "You're going to confuse her." he hinted, his gold eyes looking darker.

"Um … mom wants to see Clary," Alec said. At that moment, Clary could almost swear everyone in the room could hear the rapid beating of her heart. "Preferably, alone." Alec continued and now Clary could positively swear everyone could her galloping heart.

"Like hell I'll allow that," Jace growled. Clary looked at him in puzzlement. _Why was he so protective of her? Who is this boy?_

Jace caught her look and slowly rephrased. "I'll go with her."

Alec nodded. "And er … Simon wants to see you, Izzy. He's not too happy." Alec said, biting his full bottom lip. Isabelle stiffened and sighed, her lips pursing. Jace jumped up from the bed, offering his hand to Clary who reluctantly took his hand. He gently got her to her feet and Clary was glad she had taken his hand. She felt a bit wobbly on her feet and slightly light headed.

"How long was I out?" Clary asked, blinking rapidly as her head spun.

"Just two days … You were unconscious in sleep for the most part." Isabelle said, cringing at a memory.

"For the most part? What - ?" Clary begun but cut off as Isabelle had a horrified face on her.

The tall girl ducked down and took out a neat stack of clothes from under the bed.

"Change into these. You'll feel better and more comfortable … also, you might want to take a bath." Isabelle said, handing Clary the stack of clothes. "There's a bathroom over there." Isabelle pointed to a door at the end of the infirmary.

"I'm not sure if these will fit ..." Clary said, looking at the clothes in doubt.

"They will. Trust me."

Clary took the clothes and proceeded to locking herself in the bathroom.

The bathroom was a pristine white everything. From the sink to the tiles to the walls to the ceiling.

Clary looked at herself in the mirror that hung above the white sink.

 _Oh hell._

Her hair was an utter disarray of a mess which could've acted as a secondary chicken coop while her eyes were red and swollen from the crying. Her shirt was torn slightly at the hem and stained with dry blood.

She unfolded the clothes with shaky hands.

The softest fabric was a tank top while the other top was a black leather jacket. The pants were hard leather pants that looked quite snug.

Clary stripped out of her sticky clothing, jumping into the shower. The water was cool and Clary jumped when it made contact with her skin.

She dried herself off, pulling the tank top on which was surprisingly fitting. The pants hugged her legs like a pair of skinny jeans, probably making them look like twigs.

Clary twisted the tap and ran her hand under the faucet before bringing her wet hand to her hair, trying to straighten her gnarled knots.

Looking at herself one more time, Clary opened the door, only to find Alec, Isabelle and Jace having a showdown with each other. She closed it slightly, watching from behind the door and trying not to make a noise.

" _Why won't you believe it?_ " /iAlec growled, his hands clenched

" _I do!_ But I don't _want_ to be disappointed!" /iJace said, running his hand through his hair.

"So that's it?! You're just giving up? _She_ didn't give up on _you_ when _you_ were under Sebastian's control. She went after you … she almost _died_ trying to save you but here you are, already feeling hopeless." Alec growled, waving his hands dramatically in the air.

Jace snarled in fury and before Clary could even blink, he had somehow lunged, his hands fisted in Alec's shirt as he pushed him against the wall. Alec's head hit the wall with a loud crack though he didn't display any pain.

"Jace!" Isabelle gasped, putting an arm on his shoulder in a soothing and affectionate way

 _Maybe they've dated before_ … Clary thought, wondering.

Jace ignored Isabelle. "By the Angel, how _dare_ you, my own _parabatai_ , accuse me of giving up on her when you know me that well?!" he fumed, glaring at Alec with enough venom to kill a whale. "And don't you dare think that I don't know what she went through. _For me_. I wish she didn't had to, Alec. Trust me." Jace said, his tone softer. His hands relaxed and he released his grip on Alec who didn't even look angry but pitiful.

"Jace … have a little faith. By the Angel, she will come back to us." Isabelle soothed, putting a hand on his arm.

 _Who was 'she'?_ Clary wondered.

Jace exhaled angrily, his head hung.

Isabelle noticed Clary and she cleared her throat. The two boys fell silent as Clary came into full view, both looking at Clary.

"You look … nice," Alec complimented, looking at Clary with an odd expression.

Isabelle's eyebrows raised in satisfaction while Jace didn't say anything, just stared at her.

"I'll go see Simon." Isabelle said, excusing herself. "See you later, Clary."

Alec smiled awkwardly at Clary, looking slightly out of place.

"I'll go see if the … casserole is burning." Alec said, quickly darting out of the room but not before he put a reassuring hand on Jace's shoulder.

Leaving her and Jace together. Alone.

Great.

"Um … shall we?" Jace said, looking impatient.

Clary nodded and followed Jace out.

The Institute was huge, a vast cavernous that looked less like it had been designed according to floor plan and more like it had been naturally hollowed out of rock by the passage of water and years. Through half open doors, Clary saw empty rooms, all containing a grand king-sized four poster bed, a nightstand, a chest by the foot of the bed and a wardrobe that gaped open, showing the hollow inside.

"Jace … what _is_ an Institute?" Clary asked, trying to keep up with his long strides.

"Basically, it's a ... research and lodging facility. We're pledged to offer safety and lodging to any Shadowhunter who requests it. We can house up to over two hundred people." Jace explained, peering and gesturing into an empty room.

"But most of these rooms are empty."

"People come and go. The only permanent residents are just us - Alec and Isabelle, Maryse and Robert - their parents - me … and Collette, our newest edition."

"Alec and Isabelle?" Clary said, shocked. It never occurred to her that they were siblings.

"Yes. They're brother and sister."

"What about you? What about your parents?"

"Well … you're about to meet my mom … Robert is in Shadowhunter home country at the moment," Jace said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Wait … so Alec and Isabelle are your siblings? This is so confusing ..." Clary muttered. They looked nothing alike.

"Technically, yes. They're my adopted siblings. But better than any biological sibling anyone could ask for." Jace said, his voice protective. _Okay_ … that probably means Isabelle and Jace have never dated.

"Oh … what happened to your biological parents then?" Clary was afraid for his answer.

"They're dead." Jace said, saying it like an accepted fact. No sadness, no grief.

Clary could feel the pity on her face. Jace smiled ruefully at her as he watched her. "Don't feel sad for me. I never met them. The Lightwoods are my true family."

Clary thought of her mother, another wave of grief and anguish overcoming her.

She had never been very _close_ to her mother until the past recent months but she had loved her and to think she was alone in this world now …

To distract herself, she changed the topic to something very pressing that made Clary's head spin.

"Wait … you said Shadowhunter home country?"

Jace nodded. "Good to see you've been paying attention. Yes, I did."

"What's it called?"

"Idris."

"I've never heard of it."

Surprisingly, Jace laughed, shaking his head. "You have no idea how deja vu this is for me." Clary looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

Jace shook his head in amusement before answering. "You wouldn't have." That irritating superiority was back in his voice. "Anyone with a dull mundane education wouldn't know about it. There are wards - protective spells - up all over the borders that prevents mundane from entering."

"So it's not on any maps?"

"Not mundie ones. Let's just say you can consider it as a small country between Germany and France." Jace said, making gestures in the air with his hand.

"But there's nothing in between Germany and France. Except Switzerland."

Jace gave her a look that said _precisely._

"I take it you've been there … Idris?"

"I grew up there..." Jace said, a small smile lighting his face. "Most of us do. There are Shadowhunters all over the world, making asylum at the different Institutes across the world as demonic activity is everywhere. But to a Shadowhunter, Idris is always 'home.'"

Clary nodded. "Like Jerusalem or Mecca."

"Yes. And when we're older, were sent to where we're needed though there are a few like Isabelle and Alec who grow up from the home country because that's where their parents are. But with all the Institute's facilities and resources, training from Robert, you grow as good as any Shadowhunter that grew up and studied in Idris." Jace said. "That's the library." Jace pointed to an arch shaped set of wooden doors. A blue Persian cat lay curled in the middle of the corridor.

It looked up at the sound of Jace and towered as they approached. "Hey, Church," Jace said as the cat got to its feet and ran at them. Jace got to his knees expectantly as Church zipped its way to them.

Jace's jaw dropped Church zoomed past by him, completely ignoring him as it cuddled itself around Clary, purring softly. It mewed, skipping around her feet; first stepping on her Skechers before nudging its nose against her jeans.

"Traitor," Jace muttered, grabbing Church.

The small thing hissed, clawing its way out of Jace's grip. When it escaped, it lunged itself at Clary, hissing at Jace.

Clary looked down at the cat, surprised.

It wailed, nudging itself harder against Clary as if it were embracing the last bowl of cream in the world.

"Is it okay?" Clary wondered, bending down and gathering the ball of fur in her arms.

Jace's eyes softened ever so slightly. "You remind him of _her_. _My Clary_."

"Oh." Clary said, feeling an unmistakable pang of sadness in her chest. "But I'm not her. I'm not." Clary said defiantly, putting Church down.

Jace smiled. "We'll see," and he walked into the library.

After a moment of hesitation, she followed.

The library was circular and large, with a ceiling tapered to a point, like it had been built in a tower. The walls were lined with books, the shelves so high and towering that tall ladders set on casters were placed along them at intervals. But the books captured Clary's attention.

They were no ordinary books - these books were bound in rich leather and velvet, clashed shut with sturdy looking locks and hinges made of bead, gold and occasional silver. Just by looking, Clary could tell these books had been well used, old and loved.

The floor was a polished wood, inlaid with chips of glass, marble and semiprecious stones. The inlay formed a pattern Clary couldn't decipher; she suspected she'd have to climb up into the tower and look from a bird eye's view in order to see it properly.

In the center sat a magnificent desk that was carved out of a great, single slab of wood that had to be oak that gleamed with the dull shine of years. The slab rested on the back of two angels carved from marble, their wings gilded and their faces engraved with the look of yet agony and suffering. Clary cringed at the thought of the reason behind their suffering.

And on the desk were old parchment scrolls, half opened books, a globe and multiple weapons. There didn't seem to be anyone else in here but them.

"Mom?" Jace called.

"Back here, Jace." a hollow, authoritative voice called from behind one of the bookshelves.

"I'll go help her out … why don't you look around? I'll be back in a minute." Jace said as he darted to the spiraling staircase and bounded up the steps quickly and silently, his feet not making a sound against the metal steps.

Clary slowly inched herself to the table, looking at one of the books on the table. This one was closed but not locked.

She slowly lifted the cover and guessed that it was a photo album due to the word ' _MEMORIES_ ' scrawled on the front in elegant spidery writing. She caressed the first page before carefully flipping to the next page.

It was filled numerous pictures of Alec and another Asian looking boy who looked about nineteen. Alec and the Asian boy in Venice, Alec and the Asian boy in Paris, Alec and the Asian boy in India (the Asian boy wearing a ridiculous, overly sequined and brightly colored sari) and another photo with Church attacking Magnus by sleeping on his hair.

Clary felt like a total invader of privacy but couldn't help but smile and continue.

She flipped the page and her smile immediately faded and dropped, her eyes widening.

The next two pages were filled with pictures of … _herself_.

In one picture, she wore similar black pants, shirt and jacket to what she was wearing now, knives and other weapons strapped to her body and held a crystal blade - like the ones Jace used to kill demons - that gleamed slightly over her shoulder and standing in the middle of Jace, Isabelle while Alec stood beside Jace and in another, she was in a tight embrace with … _Jace_.

In the picture, her eyes were filled with love and adoration for him as he returned the feelings. She looked extremely, heart shatteringly happy and so did Jace. Clary couldn't remember a time when she had smiled like that: with such joy and carefree.

She took a dazed step back, her chest heaving. Her eyes were probably permanently glue to that photo, her mouth open like a fish.

True to his word, Clary heard footsteps a few seconds later until she realized that the sound was heels against the floor. Jace didn't even make a sound when he walked.

A woman spoke, clear and authoritative. "See someone you recognize?"

 **A/N - Hi! This is one of my longest chapters so I hoped you enjoyed it. Don't worry, there'll be more long chaps in the future.**


	12. What Happens in LA Stays in LA

**Chapter 11: What Happens in LA Stays in LA**

"See anyone you recognize?" a voice questioned Clary.

Clary looked up, shocked and shaken badly.

How was it possible that she was in pictures she didn't remember taking or ever happening? She looked up at the source of the voice, only to see a woman with dark hair that was pulled into a bun and dark eyes that were sharp and fierce. There was a fierce, fiery aura to her that made Clary feel respect and slight fear towards her. She also looked like an older, sharper version of Isabelle. No doubt this was Maryse Lightwood.

"How is that possible?" Clary gasped, her eyes flicking back to the book.

"It is because it is." the woman answered simply, Jace appearing beside her. He took the steps two at a time, in the end just jumping over the railing and onto the ground floor. His landing was muted, graceful, effortless and perfectly absorbed like a cat's, no false move or landing on his accord.

"Could you just give me a moment, Jace?" Clary gasped, holding her hand up. She wasn't sure if she could take this stably; whatmore with Jace around her. Jace stopped a few feet from where Clary stayed planted, looking impatient and sad. "How can that have happened?" Clary murmured as she kept her eyes locked on the photo of her and Jace.

"Clary, I know it's hard for you to believe but is true. That's why I reacted that way when I saw you in London." Jace said gently, ignoring Clary's request to stay away. He stepped in front of Clary, gripping her arms gently.

Clary's head was spinning like top.

Confusion and distress were one of the countless feelings that were running through Clary, making her lightheaded.

"Here, sit down." Jace said, steering her towards a grey, worn looking couch.

Clary legs felt like they were made of water as she shuffled to the couch, Jace gripping her arms tightly for support.

"This is impossible." Clary breathed as her backside hit the soft plush cushion of the couch. "I can't believe any of this. Not anything ..."

Jace sat beside Clary, smiling sadly at her.

"Shadowhunters have a saying, Clary; all the stories are true. Mythical creatures, stories whispered around campfires ... all of them are very real and very dangerous. So you'd better start believing," Jace said, getting up. He walked over to a teapot that sat on the oak desk and poured the contents into a chipped ceramic cup.

Now, for some reason, Clary noticed what he was wearing.

A light and loose grey shirt, the cuffs and collar unbuttoned The first button of his shirt was unbuttoned too, showing his chest which was inked with black runes. He wore black leather pants and was wearing comfortable looking shoes. His halo of curly golden hair fell in his face when he moved and he pushed it back impatiently.

"Here," Jace said, offering Clary the white ceramic cup, the rim slightly chipped.

Hesitantly, Clary took the warm cup, wafts of smoke rising from the hot liquid inside. "What's this?" Clary asked suspiciously. What if it was some magical potion or some mythical creature's pee?

Jace laughed at her expression, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Don't worry, it's not faerie juice. It's chamomile, said to soothe the soul and solve most of your problems." Jace said, smiling arrogantly.

A small part of Clary's head wondered what faerie juice was while a bigger part of her mind darkened.

"I don't want to soothe my soul. I want to find out who sent the demon to my house to kill my mom and kill them like how they killed my mom." Clary muttered, glaring at her cup of chamomile.

Jace took a deep breath. "I'd want to find out too what the hell is going on. How you're still alive - not that I'm not happy you are - actually, forget happy. I'm beyond-"

"Wait, what do you mean by 'How you're still alive?'" Clary asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

Jace stiffened slightly as he gritted his teeth. He opened his mouth to speak but Maryse beat him.

"Are you Clarissa Fairchild?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes at her in a suspicious manner.

"Mom!" Jace protested, standing up. His eyes were narrowed to slits, his teeth slightly bared at his mother.

Maryse ignored him, looking at Clary meaningfully.

"No, I'm not! My name is a Clary Ashworth, I am not a Demon hunter … or Shadowhunter or whatever you call yourselves! My mother was a mundane too, in case you were wondering!" Clary fumed.

"Your Marks point otherwise. How can you have them much less survive them if you are a mundane? Humans cannot withstand the process, the runes are too strong for them. If a rune were to be applied to a mundane's skin, the rune would turn them into Forsaken - mindless creatures that obey whatever their master commands them to do." Maryse said, stabbing a neatly trimmed finger at the white scar on her right hand.

Clary looked at her hand in disbelief. "But … how?" Clary whispered, clenching her hand into a fist. The scar shimmered slightly as it hit the light.

"You are a Shadowhunter, Clary. You are Clarissa Fairchild whether you believe or not. I would know." Jace said softly.

"But _I don't_. I don't know anything about Shadowhunters or Clarissa _Fairchild_. I was raised all my life as a Ashworth and a mundane. I can't tell a butter knife from a kitchen knife." Clary groaned.

"But you _haven't_ been a mundane all your life. It's just a mystery why you don't remember and what really happened in LA." Jace sighed.

"Wait … what happened in LA?" Clary asked, looking at the both of them.

Jace winced at memory and seemed to choose his words carefully before speaking. Even when he looked like he had chosen his words, he stayed silent a few long moments before taking a deep breath, speaking.

"Clary, you _died_."

Jace winced as he remembered the day he had received the letter … how he had practically been thrown into a coma caused by heartbreak. He had been unconscious for a day and when he woke up he hadn't believed the events of the last twenty four hours. He relived those days in a flash before his eyes:

 _Two hours later he was up and ready to go to the Silent City to identify Clary's body. He had been in a cloudy world that didn't seem real to him, his own grief and anguish blurring the lines of reality and nightmares. There were no dreams at that point in time; nightmares that was reality itself plagued Jace as he had tried to convince himself it was fake._

 _The only moment that day when Jace's reality had come into precise coherency was when he was in the examination room, standing before a metal table. He hadn't remembered the walk of the carriage, the walk down the cold, suffocating steps into the Silent City. On the table laid a body covered by a white sheet, red hair peeking out from the top._

 _Numbly, Jace pinched the top of the sheet with his thumb and index finger and gently pulled it down._

 _Clary lay on the metal table, her condition too horrible to forget, the picture of her scarred body forever branded in Jace's head. The body had been destroyed beyond recognition but Jace could recognize the blood stained Morgenstern ring around her neck where it had always stayed and she wore the ring Jace had bought her for Christmas on her left hand, still silver and shiny on her bloodied and ravaged fingers._

 _Most of her skin was raw, red or eaten, slashed and destroyed and gnawed by the demons that had attacked her. Her eyes had been clawed at and her lips had been split and torn. Her hair was a darker red in some areas, darkened by blood._

 _Isabelle sobbed once behind him before leaving the room, Alec following her, leaving Jace alone with his beloved. Once active runes appeared occasionally on her shredded skin, faded to pale silver designs._

 _As if his whole body was jolted alive again, Jace let out a loud sob._

 _The boy that never cried again was crying now over his dead girlfriend._

 _Jace had promised never to cry again, to make his resistance and will stronger. But how easily that resolve broke. Jace fell to his knees as he sobbed, letting the tears flow freely. He didn't care if a Silent Brother was staring at him now from the corner of the room or if someone was documenting this and proceeded to write a book about this. He didn't care._

 _ **I believe that this body is Clarissa Fairchild?**_ _the Silent Brother's voice said, appearing in Jace's head. For the first time in a long time, he heard a small flicker of emotions in a Silent Brother's voice. Empathy and pity_.

 _"Yes." Jace said, shakily getting to his feet. "Would you kindly step out for a moment, Brother Ezekiel? I want a moment with her." Jace turned around to look at Brother Ezekiel._

 _The Silent Brother nodded before turning to leave, his parchment colored robes billowing around him as he left silently._

 _Jace turned back to Clary. He could feel a tear escaping his eye as he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead._

 _"Ave atque vale, my love. May the Angel bless you." Jace murmured. Gently, he unhooked the Morgenstern ring from around her neck and slipped it into his pocket. He wanted something of hers that he could keep. He caressed the side of her face before covering Clary's body with the sheet again._

 _Feeling his heart break into a million pieces, he exited the room, nodding to the Silent Brother as prepared to leave the Silent City._

 _ **Her cremation will be at sundown**_ , _the Silent Brother told him, his mental voice quieter and gentler than before._

 _Jace nodded again before climbing the steps onto the surface._

 _At around 5 in the evening, Jace watched as Isabelle walked past him - or, rather, shuffled past him - dressed in a flowing white dress with long sleeves decorated with the runes of mourning and peace and grief. Alec was dressed similarly in white, his cuffs also decorated with the red colored runes meant for mourning._

 _"Are you sure you don't want to go, Jace?" Isabelle asked, her voice hollow and sad._

 _"I'll be fine." Jace murmured._

 _"But ..."_

 _"Let him be, Izzy. Don't let his last memory of her be of that." Alec murmured, wrapping his arm around Isabelle's shoulders. "Don't wait up for us, Jace."_

 _Jace watched as his family left before going to bed, too tired to fix his broken heart._

 _That night and every night after that for the next few months, Jace realized he was wrong about dreams being impossible for him anymore because he dreamt about a certain fiery redhead that had changed his whole world more than possible, stopped a war and saved countless souls including his own. The redhead that had loved him and he had loved her._

Jace decided to go simple.

The words themselves tasted vile in Jace's mouth as he said it, like they could burn a hole in his tongue.

"Clary, you _died_."

 **A/N - Hello! I know that it was extremely short. Sorry. I'm doing this cliffhanger to build suspense, not torture you guys. All credits go to the lovely Cassandra Clare.**


	13. Shadowhunters

**Chapter 12: Shadowhunters**

" _Clary, you died._ "

Those rang in Clary's head as she tried to process the words that made no sense though it was in perfect English.

She was here, sitting on this couch, in shock as she contemplated the words. Not dead. Very much alive and very much shocked.

So how did she die in Los Angeles?

"What?!" Clary gasped, whipping her head around to look at Jace.

"The Council - the Shadowhunters who make and call the decisions as well as the voting body of the Clave which is the whole Shadowhunter clan - gave us a letter stating that you were dead. They presented us with a _body_." Jace choked, flinching at a memory. The phone on the oak table rang and Maryse darted over to it, lifting the receiver to her ear. Her face scrunched up in worry and distress and … fear.

"But how is that even remotely possible? As far as I know, I never _died_ , as you can see." Clary protested, pulling her eyes away from Maryse. She realized her hands were shaking as she gestured to her living, breathing self.

"That's is the billion dollar question, isn't it? Here you are, talking to me and arguing on whether your current animation is real or not yet the Clave has pronounced you officially dead and shown us undeniable proof." Jace muttered to no one in particular. Maryse darted to one of the towering bookshelves, her hand skimming along the covers as she searched for a book.

Clary bit her lip, contemplating the current mystery.

"But, even if am that girl in the photo … I don't remember anything." Distress ran through through her like a thickened river of honey, slow and heavy. The newly learned facts ran in a circle around and around her head, giving her a bit of a headache.

"Maybe -" Maryse said, returning with a fat leather covered book higher hands. The cover was studded with precious looking stones that gleamed under the sun. "- you have a Block in your mind. That's usually the most common reason." she said, not looking up from the contents of the book as she spoke.

"A Block?"

"Basically, somewhat a mental roadblock. It mainly represses your memories so you'll forget what whoever that put the Block in your mind wants you to. In this case, probably your 'mother'" Jace explained, some bitter venom in his voice.

"But why? I don't remember anything that she'd want me to forget!" Clary groaned. She tried to remember anything worth forgetting and she kept thinking of all her terrors and nightmares. She moved a fraction away from Jace at that. Her mind begin to whirl with the different nightmares that were lined up, prepared to invade her mind. She swallowed deeply, trying to get a hold of herself.

Jace and Maryse - who had finally looked up from the fat book - were silent, looking at her meaningfully. She gauged their expression which told them that she was missing something obvious. Clary concentrated, trying to put the pieces together.

Realization hit her like a freight train going at the speed of two hundred miles per hour down a steep slope.

 _She couldn't remember._

 _She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember … she couldn't REMEMBER!_

"But _why_?" Clary gasped as the full realization dawned on her, the puzzle pieces fitting together in her mind. She noticed that ' _why'_ seemed to be her most frequent question. She didn't have any right or real answers. All she knew were false. iBut why hide the truth from her?

Clary now knew why she always had trouble remembering the past. Everything up until the last one year and a half always looked like they were submerged in cloaky, muddy water; blurred like a fogged mirror, only being able to make out the outline of figures.

She remembered waking up one morning a year and a half ago feeling disoriented and dazed and confused. For a short moment, everything around her was alien and uncharted territory although she knew she had been living, sleeping and dreaming in that calm light green colored room for the last seventeen years of life. But some small faint part of her screamed iunknown, alien, unfamiliar _when she had woken up that morning_.

"That means … all these years … everything she told me was a lie?" Clary could hear the anger and the sadness that underlied the anger and the grief that underlied the sadness.

"That would depend ..." Jace murmured, the statement probably meant for himself but Clary heard. And she answered, trying to remember everything that her mother had told her.

"She would tell me I had a knack for music though I personally prefer art better. She told me my father died when I was eight in a tragic murder though she said he deserved it for what he did to me." Clary said grimly, thinking of the father that she hated but couldn't remember and never really knew. "He was a sadist that enjoyed to watch other people's pain. He was a zealot in ways. I had a sister but she drowned when she was two. I grew up believing that fairytales and myths stayed what they were: fictional." Clary remembered the fairytales and horror stories she had heard as a child.

Maryse had disappeared again behind a bookshelf, muttering about 'disorder', 'Alec', 'chicken nest' and something that sounded a lot like 'ducking glass mole'.

Clary smiled internally though she felt as if she didn't have the energy to ever smile again physically. She envied the happy girl in the photo that smiled as if she had every joy in the world, like she had everything she ever wanted and gotten more too.

She continued what she was talking about. "Mom taught me that faeries were things that belonged in a Disney princess stories, vampires and werewolves stayed in horror movies and books and demon hunters were people that actually worshipped the devil. Werewolves, vampires, faeries, sprites, wizards and witches were all beings of creative imagination."

Jace rolled his eyes at the 'demon hunters being devil worshippers' statement.

"Believe me, vampires, werewolves and warlocks are very real and very dangerous in our world and faeries are cunning, malicious creatures that will trick you to give up your own two feet willingly. Not my ideal sense of a princess story, is it? Unless we have a true damsel in distress so stupid and desperate to do so and God help the poor lad that wants to have a tea party with the fallen angels." Jace said. Again, that annoying air of arrogance and superiority was back. "And the Shadowhunters - or Nephilim, as the Bible calls us - being half angel half mortal are far from devil worshippers." Jace continued, getting to his feet. "C'mon, let me show you some history." He took the half empty teacup from Clary's grip, put it on the table and helped her to her feet.

Clary was glad for the help. Her legs felt like they were ready to give any second.

She stood, trying to steady herself before she followed Jace.

They walked to the other end of the library, to a painting in a gold and gilded frame. Roses and daggers decorated the frame in a curling and reoccurring pattern. A single rune was displayed intervals and on the hilt of the daggers.

It was a grand painting of an Angel rising from a lake, clutching a gold cup in one hand and a sword in another. Gold runes were drawn on his body just like the Shadowhunters though the Shadowhunters' runes were ink black. An Angel in the fullest of his glory. Clary thought that if she had seen this Angel with her naked eyes, she would be blinded by its terrible beauty and glory.

The Sword and Cup seemed to be streaming water from the lake though the Angel stayed bone dry.

"That," Jace said, caressing the wooden frame. "is the Angel Raziel. You could say he is the creator of the Nephilim."

He looked at Clary making sure she was following.

"Jonathan Shadowhunter - thus our titles - summoned an Angel. The Angel Raziel." Jace paused though Clary couldn't tell if it was for the effect of dramatization or not. "He begged for a way to help, mankind who were on the brink of extinction - Earth being overruled by demons of all kinds from other dimensions, sucking this world dry of life. Seeing the purity of his heart and intention, Raziel poured his blood and blood of worthy men into a cup, and have it to those men to drink. Those who drank the Angel's blood from the cup became Nephilim, as did their children and their children's children. The cup thereafter was known as the Mortal Cup. And over the last thousand years, whenever the ranks of Shadowhunters were depleted, the cup could be used to create more Shadowhunters."

"And are there a lot of you? Shadowhunters, I mean." Clary asked, still looking at the painting.

When Jace didn't answer immediately, Clary looked at him. He shook his head.

No." Jace said, his voice...not exactly sad but something close to it.

"Why?"

"Clary, you must understand. Being Shadowhunter means being under the constant shadow of death and evil even when you're sitting in a bar enjoying a beer. More and more demons are coming into this world which means more and more Shadowhunters are being deployed for missions. And most of the time, they don't come back. A lot of Shadowhunters die young without an heir to their bloodline."

"Then why not just create new Shadowhunters with the Cup? More hunters, less demons." Clary inquired, stating that this was the most easiest and obvious answer to their problems.

Jace smiled crookedly at Clary. "The Cup can only Ascend mundanes who are worthy of being given the Nephilim blood and are pure at heart. Even then, most of the time, the mundanes are required to undergo years of endurance training before Ascension. And as the world is getting more and more corrupted-partly because of demon influences - it's getting harder to find worthy candidates for Ascension. Anyone with a dark heart or dark intentions would immediately die the moment they consumed the blood. So with all the darkness in the world, we're a dying race. Shadowhunters are rebuilding but not quickly enough."

"What gives you guys the upper hands in battling demons?" Clary asked.

"For one thing, our runes." Jace said, gesturing to the black designs on his arms. "They vary in their powers and uses. There are Marks for strength, speed, night vision, perfect memory, healing, accuracy … the list goes on for the next three weeks."

"What happened to those?" Clary said, reaching out a hand to touch the silvery scars that matched the ones on her body.

"These are the scars left behind by runes that aren't permanent like an _iratze_ \- a healing rune - or a warming rune. Those that are permanent-like the Voyance rune or a binding rune-stay inked on your skin permanently."

Clary looked down at her right hand, at the silvery scar that decorated the back of her hand. Jace looked down at the rune, taking her hand and running his thumb on the rune gently. She shivered at his touch-this time not out of fear but another feeling Clary couldn't place.

"Oddly, this scar was once an active Voyance rune-a permanent one. Why and how it could've faded into a scar is an intriguing question."

Clary's hand stiffened slightly as Jace ran his thumb across the back of her hand again.

As if sensing her slight tautness, Jace released Clary's hand which fell limply to her side. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

"So … you guys go to some sort of special tattoo parlor to get inked or what?" Clary said, trying to change the awkward air around them.

Jace laughed easily. "No … nothing like that. We use this."

Jace reached down into his boot and drew out a wand-shaped object that gleamed slightly, one end slightly blunt. It was made out of a translucent material foreign to her. It gleamed in Jace's grip.

"This," he said, "is a stele."

He handed the stele to Clary who took the object suspiciously in her hand.

It was slightly warm to the touch and it gave off a faint feeling of life and energy.

"It is made of adamas - you can call it the stuff of Heaven. A Shadowhunter needs to put the tip to their skin and draw a rune. I think a demonstration is in order." Jace explained. When Clary looked up, he had a taken out a dagger and his right sleeve had been rolled up to his elbow.

"What are -?" Clary asked but before she could finish, Jace had run the dagger swiftly against the inner flesh of his arm. His flesh slit open and fresh crimson spilled forth and down his arm. Clary gasped in shock and horror at what Jace had done though he didn't even flinch or wince in pain.

"Let's say a Shadowhunter wounds himself. He will use his stele like so," He took the stele from a very frozen Clary and put the sharper of the two ends to the skin of his arm and began to draw. Thick black lines swirled from the tip, creating a tattoo like Mark. "And this," he said, "is what happens when an _iratze_ is used."

When he lowered his hand, the Mark began to sink into his skin, like a weighed object sinking into water. It left behind a pale, ghostly reminder: a pale, thin almost invincible silvery scar.

Clary watched in amazement as the sliced open skin knitted back together, not even leaving a scar as a ghost of a reminder. Perfectly flat and unmarked skin-except for the few silver scars that always seemed present on every inch of Jace's body.

"That is another advantage. If we are injured, we can apply the _iratze_ to heal faster though, naturally, Shadowhunters _do_ heal much faster than an average mundane on their own but the runes gives us a much more efficient and speedier recovery."

"That was amazing ..." Clary murmured, reaching out as if to touch his recovered skin but kept her finger hovering an inch from him.

Jace grinned. "That's not we all we have in our arsenal."

"I doubt that whatever you still have in store can surprise me after what I just saw." Clary said and, to her utter amazement, she found herself smiling.

"Never doubt yours truly. I'm sure I can find something to still surprise you." Jace gently took Clary by the wrist, tugging her along.

"Where are we going?" Clary asked, suspicious. She still didn't have _that_ much faith and trust in Jace to wander into the unknown with him.

"I'll show you my 'toys.'"

Walking through the Institute again reminded Clary of a thirteenth century medieval castle where if you turned a corner you might find Sleeping Beauty still asleep in a hundred year slumber, still awaiting for her Prince to kiss her awake or a dragon awaiting to burn the place to ashes.

"What's that?" Clary asked, stopping in her tracks. She was staring at a painting of a square pavilion, each corner of which was marked by a spire of carved ... bones. In the center of the pavilion was a long table of black basalt bribed in white. Behind the table, against the dark grey walls, hung an enormous silver sword, point down, it's hilt carved in the shape of outspread wings.

Standing around the table were a disciplined line of tall, shadowy figures wrapped in identical parchment-colored robes that billowed around them like smoke. On a closer inspection, Clary saw that one of them had his mouth had been sewn shut and he had endless black pits for eyes.

"What _is_ that?" Clary gasped, taking an involuntary step back.

"That is the Speaking Stars Pavilion, in the Silent City." Jace said, moving to stand next to Clary. His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked at the photo. His pupils had dilated slightly as he iglared /iat the painting, his jaw working.

"Not the pavilion … those. Those … things." Clary said, her eyebrows furrowed. They reminded Clary of a walking, decaying body except that this body had all its flesh in exception of his missing eyeballs.

"Oh … those are the Silent Brothers."

"What are they exactly? Are they even real?"

"Yes, they are very real and very creepy. And they're Shadowhunters."

" _Shadowhunters?_ " An icy chill ran down Clary's spine. "That's what happens to Shadowhunters? They turn into that?! And I'm supposedly a Shadowhunter?"

"Whoa, Clary, relax." Jace said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "They're part of the Brotherhood - Shadowhunters that willingly commit their mind and being to the Silent Brothers. They are incredibly powerful in mind. They can burn a man mentally where he is standing with just their mind or search in the deepest, darkest depths of minds for secrets and truths. And, if it makes you feel any better, only male Shadowhunters are allowed to join the Brotherhood. They're sort of like archivist and librarians. The female division would be the Iron Sisters."

Clary ignored the last sentence, still staring at the eerie face of the Silent Brother.

"But why … mutilate themselves like that?" Her stomach roiled uneasily at the sight of the sewn shut mouth.

"Everybody says it's all part of being a Silent Brother though why exactly, Im not too sure." Jace started to drag Clary away from the painting. "This painting is incredibly depressing. Let's carry on."

Clary blinked, the image of the mutilated Silent Brother flashing behind her eyelids. She blinked again, trying to dispel the image from her mind.

After walking for a few more minutes - or seconds, Clary couldn't really tell as the Silent Brothers kept invading her mind - they stopped in front two wooden doors, one of which was open, letting a sliver of light from the room inside escape.

"After you," Jace said, opening the door further with his shoulder.

Clary smiled a small smile at him in thanks and stepped in.

She let out a low whistle, her eyes widening appreciatively.

"Wow … this is a lot of toys." Clary said, looking around.

"Yep. This is the weapons room. In it are our most effective upperhand ability in our arsenal against demons." Jace said, his tone appreciative. Someone who Clary hadn't noticed earlier looked up, dark hair tumbling into his bright blue eyes.

Alec.

"Oh … hi, Clary." he said awkwardly, pushing the hair out of his eyes. He pursed his lips, looking down.

"Hi Alec." Clary greeted shyly before turning to Jace, "This is impressive," Clary murmured as she looked around.

This room lived up to its name incredibly. This is how Clary would've imagined a 'weapons room'. Weapons of all manners hung from the brushed metal walls: swords, daggers, spikes, blades, maces, pikes, feather staffs, bayonets, whips, hooks, bows, nun-chucks and a single red black hilted katana. Soft leather bags that were filled with arrows lined the wall, quiver after quiver. Stacks of boots, belts, leg guards and gauntlets for wrists and arms lined against a wall, waiting and ready to be used. The place smelled faintly of metal, leather and steel polish.

A long table stood in the center of the room and on the table were certain objects wrapped in black silk with barely visible silver runes.

Jace's face lit up and he grinned happily - a truly, honest happy smile - for the first since Clary got here.

"When did these arrive?" Jace said, walking over to the table. Clary followed him timidly, curious of what was wrapped in the silk. She was very cautious of the two boys that reminded her of two close brothers and friends, their earlier heated argument seemingly forgotten.

"An hour ago, thank goodness. We've been running low on stocks since _she_ got here. There are a few more in the back." Alec sneered unpleasantly, his teeth gritted as he joined Jace at the table.

Clary looked at Alec in shock. _Was he talking about her?_

Unfortunately, Alec looked up and caught her look and he grinned. "Don't worry, Clary. I'm not talking about you."

"Of course not." Jace said, turning to Clary, still smiling though it had turned slightly composed, no longer the pure happy smile she had seen a few seconds ago. He turned back to the table, muttering and growling in annoyance, "Now, when I get my hands on that no good, damned French bimbo I'm gonna majorly s-"

Alec coughed loudly once, nudging Jace in the ribs, none too gently before he could continue his sentence. He cut off, glaring at Alec in annoyance as he rubbed his side.

"I thought you were going to check on the casserole." Jace muttered, pinching the black silk with his index finger and thumb.

"I did and it was burnt black and smoking when I got there."

"How it shows that the disability to cook is a family trait." Jace sighed, looking at Alec with hooded eyes.

"Ha ha. Funny." he retorted. " But I'm surprised no fire alarms went off." Alec said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"We don't have any fire sensors or alarms installed here, moron." Jace said, uncovering what was wrapped in the fine black silk. There were at least two dozen dull grey silver colored slim wands stacked atop each other, glowing faintly though you couldn't really tell under the bright fluorescents.

"It was a figure of speech, _zuccone_." Alec muttered. "Anyways, I gave it to Church and I swear the darn thing is possessed. It actually _likes_ Izzy's cooking." Alec looked to the floor beside him and Clary saw that there was a very contented looking Church chomping on a very burnt looking chunk of casserole.

"The poor beast is going to get cancer." Jace said mournfully, looking at the cat who ignored them, too distracted and involved with its hazardous meal to even care.

"What are those?" Clary said, saving the poor cat from anymore statements on its health though it couldn't be very good if it ate food like that all the time.

Jace turned his attention to her, looking at what she was gesturing at.

"Those are seraph blades."

"Who makes them? They don't look very much like blades to me."

They did not look very sharp to be a weapon or particularly dangerous.

"They're made by the Iron Sisters, our weapon makers. They're the female versions of the Silent Brothers but they're colder. They won't hesitate to stab you in the heart-literally-if you annoy them."

Alec repressed a shudder at his friend's words.

"I sometimes wonder who would win in a match. The Brothers or the Sisters?" Alec said wonderingly though his question was ignored by Jace.

"How do you use them?"

"Another name for seraph blades are angel blades. To use them … or activate them, you name a blade after an Angel."

"An Angel's name like Raziel?"

"No. Raziel's name is never used to name a seraph blade. It just isn't done." Alec chided in.

"Exactly. Anyways, as effective as all weapons go, seraph blades are the ideal weapon for killing demons due to the powerful angelic properties of the blades." Jace explained, the words flowing smoothly like it had been recited or memorized from over the years of repetition.

"What do you use the mace for?" Clary said, spotting the maces that hung on the wall.

"Some are filled with holy water which is ideal for incapacitating and weakening a vampire besides silver and sunlight. Others are filled with silver mixed water, holy water and silver and wolfsbane concentrate. They're quite useful though we rarely use them as-"

Jace shushed Alec, clamping a hand on his mouth as he gestured to the door. All three of them listened intently, hearing approaching footsteps.

"Jace!" a shrill unlikable voice trilled that belonged to a girl.

"Ugh," Jace groaned, face-palming himself. His golden eyes flew open in shock as he cursed once, loudly, in English.

"Shit!" he growled, looking at Clary. "Get under the table." he urged quickly but softly at Clary.

"Excuse me?" she said, believing that her ears had heard wrong.

"Just do it! We can't let _her_ see you. Please," Jace urged, pushing her shoulders.

Mumbling profanities, Clary complied, crawling under the table as Alec walked in front of the table, beside Jace and blocking Clary from sight.

"You can curse me later but now just don't move and keep quiet." Jace whispered as someone walked into the room.

Through the gaps in between Alec and Jace and their legs, Clary saw long slender legs sheathed in black leather pants and mid-calf boots that clicked and clacked loudly against the floor as she walked. Whoever the legs belonged to, she didn't possess the grace and stealth that she saw in Isabelle, Alec and Jace especially.

"Jace!" she squealed, Clary detecting a faint French accent in her voice.

"Oh … you're back." Jace said flatly, his tone indicating that he wasn't too happy that she - whoever she was - standing in front of him.

"Of course I'm back, _mon cheri_. It's so _dull_ in France. There aren't any Jaces there." she cooed seductively, taking a step forward.

"Oh yeah, sure … thanks for asking, Colette. I'm fine. How are you? Good. Me too. Let's go out for a drink later, yes?" Alec said sarcastically, huffing in annoyance.

Colette sniffed distastefully-as if there was a foul smell lingering in the air.

Alexander," she said, her tone clipped and bored.

Alec muttered something that sounded like 'ducking bamboo' under his breath. Colette didn't seem to have heard.

"So Jace … I was thinking … since I'm back … you'd like to take _moi_ out on a welcome back dinner?" Colette cooed again, taking another step until she was practically against Jace's chest.

"I would … but I'm busy. I have to train." Jace said in a flat matter-of-a-fact voice, annoyance underlying the casual tone of his voice.

"Oh, _come on_ , Jace! You never take me out! You take Izzy out but why not me?" she cried, sounding like a French brat with each passing syllable. Clary rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to duck out from under the table and stick her tongue out at her.

"Isabelle is my sister. There's a big difference." Jace said, his tone growing slightly impatient.

Colette huffed. "Fine. I'm going to be in my room. If you need anything and I mean _anything_ at all, you come to me, okay, _mon cheri_?"

Clary peeked out slightly to sneak a peek of Colette.

She was extremely beautiful though Isabelle beat her by a long shot. Curled strawberry blond hair tumbled haphazardly down her back, stopping just at her narrow waist. She was tall, probably five foot seven - compared to Clary who suddenly felt enormous and hideous compared to Colette's tall, slender and curvy frame and femme fatale looks. Her face held a dark, seductive beauty that reminded her of an evil reigning queen that used every seductive and dirty way she could think of to get what she wanted.

Colette wore a too-tight corset bodice that squeezed her body, her cleavage looking like it was going to spill out and forth. She wore a leather jacket that hugged her body tightly like a shield. Her modern Gothic get-up was sure to entice men though it seemed to only annoy Jace and Alec.

"Oh, _bonjour, Monsieur Church_."Colette crooned. Clary stiffened. She craned her head around slightly and saw Church glaring upwards, hissing and spitting at Colette.

He got up and padded over to Clary's side, pushing it's pink nose on Clary's arm. It mewed softly, purring, wanting a good scratch behind the ears.

Biting her lip, Clary picked up Church, stroking the cat from head to tail in an attempt of silencing it though it continued to make pitiful mewing noises. She scratched his ears feebly, holding her breath, afraid to make so much as a sound.

"Why'd you run away, kitty?" Colette cooed, getting to her knees to look under the table. "Don't you like me?"

Clary's heart quickened as Colette was extremely close to seeing her.

Alec snickered, Clary assumed, at her last sentence. Colette looked up to glare at him. She slowly got to her feet, still glaring at Alec. "Watch it, Lightwood." she hissed.

With a flip of her silky hair, she turned on her heels and walked out in a model-like manner, her hips swaying as she did. Clary could almost swear she would dislocate her hip if she swayed anymore. She turned left, her footsteps audible and echoing through the Institute.

"Good God," Alec shuddered while Jace exhaled softly in relief. "I hope she breaks her hip, walking like that," Clary laughed at his sentence.

Jace kneeled down and looked under the table, grinning at Clary.

This close, Clary could see that there was slight chip to his upper incisor, an endearing flaw to his otherwise too perfect being.

He took her hand and helped her up. Clary brushed the dust of her pants, looking at Jace and Alec in annoyance.

"Really? Under the table?" she said incredulously. "And who was that?"

"That is our very own Sharpay Evans, French Edition." Alec said, his tone mocking.

At the same time in unison, Jace and Clary said, "Who?"

They looked at each other; Jace amused and Clary incredulous.

"Sharpay Evans? Blond High School Musical chick. Kinda like Jace but completely soulless and shallow and conniving and filthy rich." Alec said, his face incredulous that they had never seen the franchise.

"Never heard of her but I'm pretty sure I'm way more hotter than her in every way possible." Jace said, running a hand through his hair. "Where'd you come across this Sharpay anyway? And what godforsaken high school is _musical_? I shudder at the mental images."

"Magnus showed me the show. It is quite entertaining ..." He trailed off when he saw the quirky look Jace was giving him: one eyebrow raised and a small amused smile on his lips. "When it's the last thing on Earth to do." he finished quickly, crimson flooding his cheeks as he looked down.

Someone cleared their throat loudly. All of them turned, only to see that Maryse had appeared in the doorway, looking murderous.

"Please tell me Colette didn't see her." she said, glaring at her two sons.

"Not a chance," Alec reassured his mother though he didn't sound too confident.

"We hid her under the table." Jace added cheerfully, saying it like it was the most brilliant plan in the whole world and proud he had thought of it.

"One of you is getting grounded-for the next two years, may I add - if Colette goes ratting off to her mommy dearest," Maryse said, stating her clear and obvious dislike for Colette and her mother - whoever she was, "that she spotted a supposedly dead and well respected Shadowhunter war figure in the weapons room of the New York Institute … _dios_."

 _Well respected Shadowhunter war figure? Does she mean me?_ Clary wondered in surprise.

"We'll need to be more careful, now that the little _mademoiselle_ is back, until we find out the truth of Clary's … condition. Best we keep her presence here a secret between the six of us. But for now, could all of you please follow me back to the library? I need to ask and show Clary a few things." Maryse said, in what sounded like her most gentle voice though it did very little to take away Clary's fear and insecurity. She didn't fully trust these almost utter strangers to follow them. The Institute was still uncharted territory for her.

"I'll catch up. Let me just finish hiding...I mean keeping the seraph blades first. See you in a minute." Alec muttered, turning to the table once again. Maryse nodded and started walking, not even bothering to wait for them.

"As your _parabatai_ , I suggest you just hide them in your room. No sane person would go in there." Jace suggested, smiling slyly.

Alec didn't seem ruffled by it. "May I point out that _you_ go in there occasionally?"

Jace's smile broadened slightly. "And I never said I was completely sane of mind."

 _That's what I was afraid of_ , Clary groaned internally.

Alec rolled his eyes, grabbing a few seraph blades in his hands.

"C'mon." Clary heard. Someone tugged on her wrist. She looked away from the seraph blades and down and saw that Jace was holding her wrist, tugging gently.

The moment her eyes met contact with the sight of Jace holding her wrist, he dropped his hand and turned to walk out.

Clary groaned, knowing that if she didn't catch up with Jace, she would get lost in this labyrinth. She practically jogged to Jace's side.

"Nice to see that you work out." Jace commented, making Clary scowl. He smiled, slowing down slightly so Clary could match her pace with him.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Clary spoke, "What did you call Alec just now? Parabati?"

Jace chuckled. " _Parabatai._ " he corrected.

"Yeah. That. So what is it?"

"It's a bond between two people. For example, Alec and myself are blood brothers as we are parabatai. We are not linked by blood but the bond between is stronger than any brother bond. So, for example, if a random piano were to fall from the clear blue sky and onto Alec's head, I would be compelled to push him out of the way and let the piano crush my beautiful, one of a kind skull to smithereens instead, willing to sacrifice myself for him and vice versa." Jace explained, making gestures in the air as he did.

Clary shuddered at the image of a piano crushing Jace. She moved on to another topic.

"Who's Colette's mother? Why is Maryse … scared of her?"

Jace laughed. "Please … Maryse scared of Sarrah Ravenshade? It's like saying a cat is afraid of mice and a bowl of cream."

"It could be possible, you know. If the cat is allergic."

Jace rolled his eyes, dismissing her rebuttal. "But the answer is far from yes. Intimidated? Yes. Afraid? Never in a million years."

"Why?"

"It was all a hoot." Jace said. "You see, Colette's mother is the Consul of the Conclave-"

"What's a Consul?" Clary interrupted.

Jace sighed, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. "It's one of the most important and highest ranks in the Conclave, practically the leader of it. And Colette's mother is the Consul. As I was saying, there are believable rumors saying that Sarrah's election win was corrupt, the voters bribed into voting for her."

"And were they?"

"Possibly. Not a lot of Shadowhunters like the Ravenshade family. That family was involved in too many … scandals in the past." Jace said uncomfortably, his eyes hard.

"What scandals?"

Jace took a deep breath. "That's a story for another day, okay?" he said stiffly.

Clary nodded, taken off guard by his sudden burst of coldness.

"Sorry," she mumbled, looking at Jace in her peripheral vision. He looked at her, smiling a little arrogantly and knowingly.

"For which one?" he said.

Clary scowled, looking straight ahead. "You annoy me too, you know."

"You think you annoyed me? Please, it takes much more to intimidate me than a tendency to have pushy curiosity."

"I'm not pushy!" Clary objected though she found herself smiling.

Jace said nothing to oppose that though his facial expressions betrayed him.

Clary was about to make a remark about him but she realized they had reached the library.

"After you," Jace murmured.

"Thanks."

Maryse was sitting by the grand oak table, sifting through a few parchment of papers.

"Take a seat, Clary." she said, not looking up from the papers.

Clary plopped down in the chair unsurely, Jace leaning on the chair she was sitting on.

"I want to ask you … would it be okay if I called upon a Silent Brother to help you sift through your memories to find out what really happened?" Maryse asked. There were stress lines on her forehead, her hair a tad messy and her face tired.

Clary processed the words, a shot of ice cold water spreading along her veins. Silent Brothers … An image of the hooded figures going near her, messing up her mind flashed in her head.

"No! I mean, yes I would mind!" Clary said, a bit too loudly.

"Mom," Jace said in objection. "You said we were going to keep this hidden from the Clave!"

"Jace!" Maryse silenced sharply. Jace gritted his teeth, his arms crossed over his chest. "You don't have to worry. This Silent Brother is a … close friend. He'll help us at his and our own discretion."

Jace's eyes lit up, his face calculative.

"I don't know … I'm not comfortable with that idea." Clary said, an uneasy feeling roiling in the pits of her stomach. The black pits of a Silent Brother's eyes flashed behind Clary's eyelids

"Don't you want to find out the truth of all of this? You may be able to find out why and who sent that demon to kill your mother." Jace said, his voice and reason amazingly persuasive.

Clary bit her lip in uncertainty.

The mangled, barely recognizable face of her mother appeared in her mind causing a small gasp to leave Clary's lips as grief and anger hit her squarely in the chest.

"Fine. Maybe … I'll … when?"

Maryse's face lit up and she offered Clary a small smile which she did not return. "I'll contact him. He'll get here latest by tomorrow morning." Maryse said, nodding her head. "In the meantime, Jace, why don't you take her to where she is going to stay?"

"Sure," Jace said, his eyes narrowed at his mother. Maryse waved him off, returning to her papers.

"C'mon, Clary." Jace muttered. Clary took one last look at Maryse, nodded and got out of the chair, following Jace. They weaved their way through the Institute, climbing a few steps here and there.

"That seemed further than I would have expected."

"Yeah … sorry about that. This is one of the most remote areas of the Institute, where Colette will never go. Don't worry, Maryse is trying to get her shipped back to Idris. If we're lucky, she'll be gone by tomorrow evening. It'll be a relief for all of us." Jace sighed. "She's never around most of the time, anyways so you should be safe."

Jace looked at her, an emotion she couldn't decipher before he sighed, twisting the knob and opening the door.

Clary peered in.

Same white duvet as in the other rooms, pulled flat and tight over the bed, trunk at the foot of the bed, nightstand by the bed and a wardrobe at the left end of the room though this one didn't hang open empty.

"Isabelle stocked the wardrobe for you. She figured you'd need clothes ASAP." he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I guess I'll leave you to it." Jace said, turning on his heels without another word.

As Clary watched Jace leave, a sentence bubbled to her lips involuntarily and was out before her mind could catch up.

"Jace," she called. He turned, one eyebrow cocked. "thank you."

He grinned, winking before he continued walking, humming an unfamiliar song to Clary.

She sighed, walking into her room.

A small spark of curiosity bubbled inside Clary as she padded over to the wardrobe. Carefully, as if the wardrobe were a ticking time bomb, Clary opened a door and stared wide-eyed at the colours.

The only colors that Clary could see in the wardrobe were black, white and grey. No other colors.

 _Maybe it's a Shadowhunter thing_ , Clary thought taking a white shirt with a small black rose adorning the hem with her thumb and index finger.

She neatly folded the shirt and prepared to close the door when she felt a part of the wood that was raised.

She closed it slightly, still holding the door in one hand. With the other, she traced the raised part of wood. She realized it was a rune-the rune that was drawn on almost everything. It was always this single rune that was the most frequently seen.

With her right index finger, Clary traced the rune.

In her ears, she noticed a slight ringing which she tried to ignore though it only peaked in frequency. She felt something warm and wet drip down her chin.

She put a finger to her nose and it came away red with blood.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the blood. She felt another trickle but before she could put her hand up to her nose, a flash of white light appeared in front of her eyes, a flash of a symbol appearing underneath her eyelids.

She cried in pain once as searing almost unbearable pain shot through her head. Her grip on the wardrobe door tightened, the edge of the door cutting into her palm as she tried to keep her balance though it was in vain.

She felt her body tilt and her mind shake, giving her the worst migraine imaginable.

She felt her head hit the floor though she couldn't feel the impact as her migraine was controlling every part of her mind and being.

Clary breathed a prayer of thanks when the darkness swallowed her, feeling her body give into the pain that dragged on and on.

 **A/N - Thanks again for reading everyone!**


	14. Painful

**PART 2: Hell Hath No Fury**

 **Chapter 13: Painful**

Isabelle slept in her room, her hand pillowing her, her cheeks and the pillow below here stained with salty tears.

Fifteen minutes ago she had had a terrible, terrible fight. Her mother still barred Simon from seeing Clary, claiming she would when the time was right. Not really being able to do anything to sway her mother's decision or even let Simon in, she had tried to reason with Simon but it had somehow morphed into them yelling at each other and Simon stalking away

Now, here she laid, eyes swollen and on the brink of sleep.

Everytime she was sure she was about to slip into the void of dreams and peace, a sense of uneasiness slipped into her, making her toss and turn in her bed, the springs creaking underneath her weight.

She tossed onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

"Ouch," she muttered, looking down at her collarbone. She had been unconsciously rubbing at the spot that was in between her shoulder and collarbone. It was burning away dully, like someone was holding and butane flame to her skin.

She pulled aside her vintage white blouse, looking at the skin.

It was the patch where her _parabatai_ rune was, still a silvery scar on her body but it was burning uncomfortably. Isabelle sat up, looking at the rune in puzzlement.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably, the burn reminding her of the time when she thought Clary had died as the rune had gone inactive.

Worry and panic slapped her in the face sharply.

 _Clary._

She jumped out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans before slipping out of her room.

Isabelle started with a quick pace, her footsteps soundless against the soft carpeting but it quickly morphed into a jog which quickly accelerated into a run, her hair whipping behind her as she did. She flew up a the short flight of stairs that would lead her to the third floor, to Clary's room.

She slowed to a jog, stopping a few feet from Clary's room.

What if she was just being paranoid and slightly on edge? What if Clary was sleeping? What if -?

Isabelle harshly shoved the unconfident and un-Isabelle Lightwood side of her down a mental dark abyss of the other crappy and mundane habits.

Gritting her teeth and without even bothering to knock, Isabelle placed her hand on the knob and twisted. Much to her surprise, it turned and clicked open, granting Isabelle access. She had expected to door to be locked but it being it open shocked her-and denied her the chance to break the door down.

"Clary?" Isabelle said, peeking in. The bed was still neat, the duvet still flat against the sheets, not even a crease to imply that someone had slept on the surface visible.

 _Odd_.

Isabelle's eyes wandered and widened to the point where she could practically feel her eyeballs beginning to slip out and practically the whole world, sky and universe came crashing down on Isabelle.

The wardrobe door hung open slightly and Clary lay in an unconscious heap at the bottom, her fiery hair splayed in a mess around her face.

"Clary!" Isabelle shrieked, rushing to Clary's side. She fell to her knees, brushing Clary's wild hair aside. Her eyes were darting frantically behind her pale eyelids. A small trickle of blood ran from her nose and there were a few drops of blood on her shirt. A light sheen of perspiration covered Clary's forehead as she took quick, laboured breaths.

Clary whipped her head to a side, groaning.

" _Jace!_ _**Jace!**_ " Isabelle shrieked rawly, the words clawing their way out of her throat. She cradled Clary's head on her lap as the redheaded girl whimpered.

" _Jace Herondale!_ " His name rang out through the Institute in no way that Jace couldn't hear. If he didn't come in the next fifteen seconds, Isabelle was going to slap him so hard his mouth would be crooked and be located at the back of his head. Permanently.

Isabelle heard footsteps a few seconds later … oddly. Jace would never make such racket …

 _Oh no._

Isabelle gently laid Clary's head on the floor and stood in front of her, concealing Clary as much as possible.

Sure enough, the high reigning bitch of the world appeared in the doorway, her face annoyed.

" _Izabelle_ ," she said, turning the 's' into a 'z', her voice annoyed and arrogant and bitchy. "Would you be quiet? I'm very tired and I can't have a nuisance like you making a racket through the Institute! I need my beauty sleep and -"

"If your sleep gives you beauty, Colette, you'll definitely need it." Isabelle growled, not being able to help herself.

Colette took a step closer, trying to size Isabelle up. She didn't even notice Clary … until Clary made a strangled moaned.

Colette's eyes shot down to Clary's partially concealed unconscious figure. She gasped, taking a step back and putting a hand to where her non-existent heart was.

Jace appeared at the doorstep half a second later, his eyes bright and wary though there were black bags of fatigue under his eyes.

He immediately spotted Clary's unconscious body and went to her, kneeling beside her head, cradling it.

Colette seems to be at a lost for words as she watched Jace murmured to Clary.

"Is that who I think it is?" she finally said, her French accent morphing into a clipped and disbelieving tone.

"Yes, it's the Boogeyman." Isabelle said sarcastically, biting back unprintable words.

"What happened to her?" Jace asked from behind her, sounding eerily calm. Isabelle had expected him to lose it, screaming at Isabelle or going frantic or even delivering a well deserved smack to Colette.

"I don't know. I came in and she was already unconscious." Isabelle said, turning to Clary and Jace.

"I thought she was _dead_?" Colette said, her tone incredulous, disbelieving and a little too loud. There was another tone in her voice that Isabelle couldn't decipher … but it sounded like she was enraged? She took a few steps closer until she practically hovered over Clary.

"Stay _back_ ," Isabelle hissed, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that." Colette growled.

"Or what? You'll strip me of my Marks? Take a hit, French Fry. Let's see who gets their Marks stripped first. Preferably, from their skin-literally." Isabelle nearly laughed when she towered over Colette.

"Do not test me, Lightwood." Colette hissed, trying to scare Isabelle by glaring into her eyes.

 _Not happening, sweetheart,_ Isabelle growled viciously in her head.

"Enough." Jace growled, swinging Clary's limp body into his arms without effort.

"Isabelle started it, Jace." Colette said, sounding about five. That sentence shouldn't have affected or bothered Isabelle seeing that it came from someone about four but somehow this sentence annoyed her to hell. With Clary unconscious, she still could find time to play toddler games?!

 _Why you little shitty, unworthy piece of -_

"Isabelle," Jace said softly, suspecting that his sister was about to pounce on the French Fry. Colette smirked authoritively, taking a wee smaller step closer to Jace. "She's not worth any of your energy. Leave her be." he continued, winking knowingly at Isabelle. His wink was tired and forced, not one of his normal, charming and carefree winks - though those had faded in its appearances since Clary was supposedly pronounced dead.

Colette's smirk fell from her face, anger and hatred towards Isabelle replacing her smirk.

Without another word, Jace walked out of the room, Clary cradled against his chest as she groaned.

Isabelle prepared to follow them, her worry for Clary drowning out her annoyance and loathing for Colette when she felt a cold, hard hand grip her arm.

Isabelle yanked her hand free harshly, not feeling the pain and glared at Colette whose eyes were equally narrowed. Annoyance and hatred filled her again, threatening to burn out the worry. Isabelle fought to keep the worry present. That's all that kept her from choking the dark life out of French Fry.

"What do you want?"

Colette gritted her teeth. "What I want you to do is _stop_ putting negative _delusions_ and crap about me in Jace's head."

Isabelle smirked. She knew what Colette was talking about. "I'm not doing _anything_ , Colette. I don't have to. You do it yourself." Isabelle said slowly, making sure each word sunk into Colette like a blade through jelly.

Not giving her time to answer, Isabelle pushed past Colette, nudging her shoulder slightly on the way out to join Jace in the infirmary.

Jace felt nauseous, to be honest.

As he carried a very unconscious Clary in his arms, he asked the Angel why he was being treated like this. Jace thought that his time for sufferings and loss had past but apparently this had to bite him in the ass.

He descended the stairs as quickly as he could without jostling Clary too much.

In this state, she looked so vulnerable, so fragile … like china. As if a single shake could shatter her.

Once again, he laid Clary on one of the white infirmary beds for the second time in two days.

She was sickly pale, her eyelids fluttering violently.

"I'll go tell mom." Isabelle said weakly before dashing out of the room.

Jace grabbed a piece of cloth, heading towards the bathroom when Clary screamed.

It pierced through Jace, his grip on the cloth tightening painfully. Scream after scream ripped its way out of Clary as she writhed on the bed.

Abandoning the piece of cloth, Jace sprinted back to Clary's bed, his individual movements blurred even to himself. One moment he was standing twenty feet away and the next, he was sitting on Clary's bed cradling her thrashing body to his chest.

They were screams of terror and anguish, Jace could tell and Jace felt as if the screams were his own type of sick, sadistic torture; a cold knife being twisted slowly in his gut.

"Clary," he hushed, staring at her shoulder sightlessly as he whispered her name again and again like when he had once upon a time, when all the mayhem of loss, darkness, bloodshed and love started on Blackwell's Island. Clary thrashed in his arms, each of her breaths shuddering and unstable.

His grip on her tightened when she screamed again, clawing at the sheets that lay underneath her. The screams grew more and more desperate as did Jace, his breathing getting tighter and rougher.

"Clary, come back. I'm here. I'm here." Jace chanted again and again, hoping that Clary wasn't too lost to hear him.

Jace felt something weak and shaky clutch his arm and when he looked down, he was surprised to see it was Clary's hand.

" _J-Ja-Jace_?" she gasped shakily, clutching on tighter like he was her anchor.

"Yeah. I'm here." Jace said, his voice muffled against Clary's hair.

" _Don't_ … _let_ … _mrr_ ," the last few words were muffled against Jace's arm as Clary's head fell slack against his arm. Her grip on his hand loosened and fell on her stomach.

For a moment, Jace's chest filled with worry and panic until he realized Clary had just fallen asleep. He exhaled in relief before he gently laid Clary on her back on the infirmary bed, swapping a few pillows from the other beds and tucking them under Clary's neck. The infirmary beds were hard and lumpy, not very comfortable (Jace would know as he spent a lot of time lying in one of the infirmary beds).

Feeling aged, Jace sat on the infirmary bed beside Clary, cursing at the lumpiness underneath him. He leaned his head against the headboard, staring at the white wall across him.

"She's fine," Jace said as Isabelle walked in, her eyes frantic. He smacked himself mentally at the hollowness and the fatigue in his voice. He was tired. It had been too long with too many situations in it since he had a remotely calm and peaceful sleep. Even half-angel, there was only so much his body could do for so long. He was able to hide his fatigue earlier but he was on the brink of sleep now, his eyelids heavy.

His mother walked in a few steps behind Isabelle, her eyes hard. Isabelle kneeled beside Clary, brushing hair out of her eyes before getting up determinedly. She grabbed the white cloth Jace had dropped and stalked into the bathroom. Jace noticed his sister's arm shook slightly and how baggy her eyes were.

He could only imagine the toll this was taking on Isabelle. And he _could_. It was probably how he felt now but with more … hormones.

"Her pulse is a little quick but she should be alright." Maryse muttered, taking out hey stele and putting it to Clary's skin. She drew a peace rune and effectively Jace could see Clary's stressed and taut body relax slightly.

"Have you contacted -" Jace began.

"Yes. He said he'll be here by tomorrow morning."

Jace leaned his head against the headboard again, sighing. He wanted and needed answers. The sooner the better.

"I take it Colette found out?" Maryse sighed, gritting her teeth.

"Sadly, yes." Isabelle growled, returning from the bathroom, a basin in her hand. Jace could hear the water sloshing around in the basin. "Let's hope she can keep that fat mouth of hers quiet. I still have my suspicions against the Clave."

"I'll go talk to her."

Jace watched as his mother walked out of the room before turning to look at Isabelle. She was dabbing at Clary's face, wiping away the blood and sweat.

A turmoil of feelings ran through Jace now as he watched Isabelle tend to Clary. He was slowly killing himself like this; he could feel it.

"Go take a nap, Jace. You look terrible," Isabelle said, looking at him, her eyebrows pinched together with worry.

"I'm fine," Jace muttered stubbornly, blinking a few times.

"That's like saying vampires are really overgrown bats. You're not, Jace so I suggest you take a damn nap. I can take care of Clary." Isabelle said, shrugging indifferently before turning back to Clary.

Jace groaned but closed his eyes, a cover of sleep immediately claiming him.

Alec shuffled tiredly, his shoulders slightly hunched, to the front door of Magnus's loft, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a set of keys that rattled on a keychain.

He opened the door, Chairman Meow attacking his feet playfully the moment he crossed the threshold.

"Alec, darling!" Magnus appeared from behind an enormous shelf of old spell books. Some were old and unused enough to be called dust collectors instead of books. He wore a pair of bright neon green pants that had glitter covering the bottom of the legs and sequins bedazzling his pockets. He wore only a bright blue silk vest as a top, the words " _I AM GREATER THAN HARRY POTTER_ ' scrawled in hot pink cursive on the back.

Magnus stopped a few feet in front of Alec, cocking his head to a side.

"You look tired. Are you okay?" Magnus asked worriedly, walking behind Alec and squeezing his shoulders.

"Yeah." Alec lied. He was _far_ from okay. But he couldn't tell Magnus any of this. Not yet. He had sworn an oath and he would keep it - unless he wanted to be struck down from Heaven above.

Magnus steered Alec towards the couch as he massaged Alec's stiff shoulders. It felt good, Alec had to admit. He relaxed his taut shoulders slightly, sighing.

Alec ignored the couch and headed straight into the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee. He stopped short, staring at the person who sat in one of the high chairs.

Simon.

He didn't look like he was in the best of moods, his mouth slightly hard and his eyes glossy as he stared at his cup of coffee.

"Am I missing something here?" Alec inquired, looking at Simon who didn't look up or even seem to acknowledge Alec's presence.

Magnus sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you are so am I. The poor bastard showed up on my doorstep an hour ago looking perfectly miserably and committed himself to finish every last drop of coffee I have here. Officially, we have an international coffee shortage crisis." Magnus huffed in annoyance.

"What's got your runes in a twist?" Alec asked, pursing his lips.

"Haha. Hilarious. Who knew Shadowhunters had a sense of humor? Oh, that's right, they _don't_." Simon muttered, not looking up until the last word. He played with the rim of his coffee cup, his eyes hooded.

Alec rolled his eyes. "You're a Shadowhunter." Simon ignored him.

"Are you still mad about earlier?" Alec inquired thoughtfully, walking behind Simon to the pot of coffee that sat on the kitchen counter.

Simon didn't answer, obviously still sulking about earlier.

Alec looked into the coffee pot, looking mournfully at the empty pot. He proceeded to make another pot of coffee. Soon the whole kitchen was filled with the mouthwatering smell of ground coffee.

Magnus eyed the coffee, his eyebrows raised. With a quick flick of his hand, the coffee pot had filled itself. Alec frowned. He didn't like Magnus conjuring coffee with magic; it definitely meant the coffee was being taken - stolen illegally - from some coffee joint that had too good coffee for its own good.

Alec couldn't even see a trace of guilt in his boyfriend's face until Magnus looked up at Alec. He pursed his lips before biting the bottom lip.

 _Well, coffee is coffee_ , Alec sighed to himself thoughtfully before pouring some of the coffee into a mug. He added a little too much sugar into his coffee but Alec didn't mind. He liked his coffee sweet.

Chairman Meow - who still looked as tiny as he had been when Alec had first saw him-jumped gracefully onto the counter, pacing in front of Simon, looking curious as he nudged his hand.

Simon flicked the cat away without looking up and Magnus bared his teeth. He gathered the soft mound of fur in his hands crooning to it.

"Okay, what's wrong? I really don't care but if it keeps you from smacking my pet senseless, I'm all ears." Magnus said. Chairman Meow leapt from his arms and onto Magnus's head. He curled up and appeared to fall asleep on Magnus's head.

Simon finally looked and sighed, looking drained. "It's Isabelle," he sighed.

Alec stiffened at the sound of his sister's name. "What the hell did you do?!" Alec demanded, his tone sharp and accusing.

"Nothing! Exactly nothing!" Simon burst out, making violent gestures in the air with his hands. "I get called down to the Institute three days ago about something 'important' that supposedly 'includes me' and then you people won't tell me what the hell it is! And Isabelle disappears for hours everyday into the Institute and when I see her again, she has tears on her cheeks and eyes but she won't tell me what the fudgecakes is going on!" Simon fumed. Chairman Meow leapt from Magnus's head and disappeared in a grey streak under the couch at the volume of his voice.

Alec sighed. "Isabelle -" he started but Simon cut him off, continuing his rant. "I'm her boyfriend but she won't even trust me! How -"

"Wait! What's going _on_ in the Institute?" Magnus said, silencing everyone. He turned to look at Alec, his eyebrows raised slightly. "Alexander, you never told me any of this."

Alec hung his head before sipping his coffee innocently. To him, this was worse than facing a horde of Psylaman demons - big, ugly creatures with too many tentacles that ended with sharpened, venom filled bulbs and sharp dagger-like teeth that were also coated in fatal neurotoxic venom.

"You know something." Simon accused, his eyes narrowing.

"Alexander?" Magnus inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. Alec looked at his boyfriend, hoping that guilt wasn't obvious on his face.

"I … don't know." Alec said, looking at his cup of coffee.

"Alec." Magnus said at the same time Simon growled, "Bull."

"I can't say, okay?!" Alec said, slamming his cup of coffee on the counter. It cracked and the coffee seeped out from the bottom. Magnus looked at it wide-eyed while Simon flinched.

Alec fumed, stalking past Simon and Magnus, feeling like a five year old. He wouldn't be able to hold his ground if he stayed around Magnus any longer.

If it was the few things that Alec hated about this situation, it would be Jace hurting and lying to Magnus.

His Magnus.

 **A/N - Hello again! I can't express how thankful I am for all the lovely reviews! They really inspire to carry on writing :D**


	15. The Ex-Silent Brother

**Chapter 14: The Ex-Silent Brother**

" _Jace!_ " a high, annoying voice said, sounding very close to his ear.

A finger with nails in a desperate need of trimming poked the side of his cheek in an annoying repeating manner. He rolled over, burying his head in the pillows.

" _Go away_ ," he muttered though it sounded muffled against his pillow. It sounded more like " _Goph fway._ "

 _"Jace!_ " the unpleasant voice whined again. He knew who it was and because of who it was, he decided to ignore her.

"Oh, for the Angel's _sakes_." another voice, a _very_ familiar voice, groaned. Jace knew the meaning of _that_ particular tone but before he could even wrench himself out of bed, he felt his bed tilt as someone lifted it and suddenly found himself being dumped on the floor. He braced his hands outwards to break his fall, pain shooting up his elbows.

 _Ouch._

Jace propped himself up, turning to glare at Isabelle - who no doubt had rolled Jace out of bed - whose face was impassive as she looked at him.

" _What_?"Jace muttered, getting to his feet. Colette offered a hand but Jace ignored her, eyeing her hand like it was a venomous snake.

Isabelle was stiff when she answered Jace. "Jem is here."

Jace's eyes widened slightly. "What time is it now?" Jace looked around for a clock until he realized that he was still in the infirmary where he had fallen asleep.

"About seven in the morning." Colette answered enthusiastically in a chirping voice. Jace looked to his left and started when he saw that the bed to his left was empty.

"Where is she?" Jace asked, trying not to sound too frantic and failing miserably. He fought to slap himself.

"She woke up about half an hour ago. She's in the library now." Isabelle said, sighing. She turned and walked, stopping just by the doors. "You coming, Jace?"

Jace nodded once before following Izzy out, his taut muscles squeaking in pain. He should know better than to sleep in a position that would give him ninety year old grandma aches.

On the way to the library, Colette attempted to make small talk with Jace though he found it extremely annoying. He fought against the urge to smack the fly away. She sounded too high strung and hyper, making Jace wonder what was the cause behind her overly happy tone that hadn't had any luck in bluffing someone.

They turned the corner, only to see Tessa and Jem walking down the hallway, hand in hand and muttering in hushed voices.

"Jem," Jace said, walking ahead of Isabelle and Colette.

Both of them looked up, Tessa surprised and Jem worried.

"Jace," Tessa said, a small, reserved smile spreading across her face. Jem smiled though there were deep creases in his forehead when he did.

Tessa leaned forward and captured Jace in a tight embrace. "It really is her," she whispered and Jace nodded slightly, just enough for Tessa feel.

There was a indignant cough from Colette when Tessa didn't let go immediately. Jace suppressed a smile as he pulled away.

"So I take that you really did see her in London?" Jem said, nodding, his lips pursed.

"Thanks, for coming." Jace said, ignoring what Jem said, pushing hair out of his eyes. "Are you sure you can do this?"

Jem shrugged.

"Excuse my asking but where's the Silent Brother?" Colette chirped. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet impatiently, her eyes glued to Jem. Jace rolled his eyes, feeling a sudden pity for Jem.

He must as well say the words now.

 _Ave atque vale, James Carstairs. And good luck._

"That would be me." Jem said, raising his hand like he wanted to answer a question, oblivious to the fact that Colette was practically fangirling. Bad move.

Colette burst out laughing and Jace exhaled in annoyance. Tessa had a slightly annoyed and amused smile on her face, her arms crossed lightly over her chest as she watched Colette.

"Yeah … that's gonna happen as much as Jace is going to admit he ran down Madison Avenue naked with antlers on his head." Colette managed to say in between giggles. Jace groaned silently and face palmed himself, the force knocking his head back. How did she even _know_?

Jem arched an eyebrow at Colette, his expression exasperated while Tessa was looking at Jace wide-eyed, her expression one of ' _your jewels were displayed as you ran down a busy street?_ '. Colette's obnoxious laughter died down when she realized that they were serious.

"Oh," she muttered before clearing her throat looking away.

Jace sighed exasperatedly again, leading the way. Jem and Tessa immediately followed, Tessa joining hands with Jem immediately.

"Maryse warned me about the Consul's daughter." Jem muttered as they walked, his tone slightly shocked and annoyed.

"Then believe me, Maryse didn't warn you enough." Jace breathed, looking forward with gritted teeth.

Clary sat huddled on the couch, a cup of once hot tea in her hands.

"I never actually agreed to this." Clary muttered, sipping her cooled tea.

"You should know then, my definition of agreement and others are different things. A maybe is all I need, you know." Maryse looked from Clary to a fat book frantically. Hair fell into her eyes and she didn't bother to brush it away.

"Mrs … er … Lightwood? Are you okay?"

Maryse looked up, her expression blank. "Sorry … what? I wasn't paying attention."

"Are you okay, Mrs Lightwood?" Clary repeated, putting her cup down.

"Call me, Maryse, please. No one calls me Mrs Lightwood. At all." Maryse said, laughing slightly. It was a slightly shaky sound. "And yes, I'm … fine."

Clary was about to open her mouth to say something but the doors of the library burst open loudly, Jace walking in like he owned the place.

"The Angel!" Maryse gasped quietly though Jace heard her.

"Just me, mom … though I am equally magnificent. .." Jace mused, pushing hair out of his eyes.

"Oh, Jace." Maryse muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Jem's outside … he's ready … if Clary is." Jace said, hanging by the door.

A chill ran down Clary's spine at the thought of a Silent Brother standing outside the doors but she forced to calm the fluttering in her chest and stomach.

"I … I'm ready." Clary murmured, sitting up straighter.

"And that choice of tone is _so convincing_ ," Jace said, rolling his eyes. Maryse glared at Jace.

Jace nodded, smiling knowingly at Clary before peeking behind the door, ushering whoever that stood outside inside.

First, Isabelle walked in, followed by Colette; Clary's heart fluttered spin her chest when she saw Colette's eyes falling on her, zeroing in on Clary with what looked like curiosity and … malice? So Colette knew about her? Great.

Then another two people walked in.

They were a boy and girl, both holding hands as they walked in.

The boy had dark brown hair that looked almost black and a gentle, charming face with a calm, gentleness to it unlike Jace who had sharp, striking features. He looked slightly Asian. Clary noticed a slight under curve to his eyes as he got closer. His skin was slightly flushed and he wore jeans and a black shirt with a black jacket.

The girl on the other hand had dark hair cascading haphazardly down her back, her face gentle though her eyes were sharp like a hawk's. She wore a scarf and long sleeved beige turtleneck with jeans and mid-calf boots. She smiled at Clary though Clary felt too antsy and fidgety to pay much attention to the boy and girl.

Her eyes were still glued to the entrance, waiting for a tall and scarred parchment hooded figure who never came.

"Shall we begin?" the Asian boy said, smiling at Clary.

The brown haired girl smacked the Asian boy on the arm chastely. "You sound like you're going to do an operation on her!" She spoke with a gentle British accent while the Asian boy had spoken with a more defined British accent.

"Um … sorry … but I'm confused." Clary said, watching the boy and girl banter quietly with each other.

"Of course you are." Colette breathed, looking at the ground with a small, dirty smile on her lips. Jace and Isabelle shot her a dirtier look.

Jace stepped forward so he was standing right next to the Asian boy.

"Clary, this Jem Carstairs and Tessa Gray..the prettiest people you will find their age." Jace said, holding in a laugh. "I've always wanted to say that." he muttered to himself, crossing his arms and looking down, a small, proud smile on his lips.

Tessa, who looked like she was annoyed enough to swallow glass, leaned over Jem and harshly smacked the back of Jace's head with one hand.

"Hey!" Jace said, rubbing the back of his head ruefully, glaring at Tessa. Jem stood in the middle, pretending not to be listening an enjoy this.

"I'm not _that_ old." Tessa muttered, crossing her arms. Jem laughed, planting a kiss on Tessa's temple.

Isabelle made a face. "By the Angel, save it for the wedding." Isabelle groaned, making a teasing face of disgust. She faked throwing up onto Jace, a smile on her lips. Clary noticed Jace taken a slight sidestep away from Isabelle.

"Technically, we _are_ married." Jem corrected. "Well, almost."

"Then for the Angel's and everyone's sakes, people over sixty shouldn't kiss."

"Do I -"

Maryse cleared her throat loudly in annoyance, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at them. Jem cut off, restraining himself. He turned to smile at Clary.

"I know you were expecting a _real_ Silent Brother but I _was_ one. Now I am no longer but I still do possess some powers."

"But you look nothing like a Silent Brother." Clary murmured. He didn't have the endless pits for eyes or the stitched mouths of the Silent Brother which was in the painting she saw.

"I was lucky, you could say. They didn't take away my eyes or stitch my mouth. But I managed to keep some of my powers even after I left the Brotherhood. You don't have to be afraid. These things usually go by smoothly."

"Usually?" Jace said, in a small almost breathy and panicky laugh.

"Oh, relax, Jace. Jem knows what he's doing." Tessa said, patting Jace on the back soothingly.

Jem came forward and knelt in front of Clary whose back was rigid, her fists clenched.

"Just relax." Jem said. Jace drifted over, hovering as he watched Jem.

Slowly, Jem put his scarred fingers - the same faint scars that decorated Jace's body on his hands - to Clary's temple. Automatically, Jem's eyes fluttered shut as he concentrated. His fingers were cold against her skin and she fought against a shiver.

"Close your eyes and concentrate on your surroundings. Clear your mind of anything else other than your surroundings."

Taking a deep breath, Clary closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. She focused on her surroundings as instructed.

The air was cool and light: breathable. Two people were mumbling quietly, the words too hushed for her to hear properly. And to her right, the closest, clearest and most calming thing she could concentrate on. Someone's breathing.

Jace.

He was standing the closest to Clary so it could be assumed it was Jace. Though, somehow, Clary _knew_ it was Jace.

She focused on that, letting herself relax. His breathing was a steady repetition and Clary matched her breathing to his.

She felt her body plunge into an abyss where she could no longer hear anything. Not even Jace's breathing. She couldn't even feel Jem's hands on her temples anymore.

Sneakily, she opened her eyes and found herself standing in darkness. Her heart rate picked up and she clamped her eyes shut again. When she opened them, Clary stood in another place.

Everything around her was blurred, Clary herself being the only clear point. People or things moved in the blur as blurs themselves as they moved in her vision.

Through the unidentifiable blurs, Clary managed to guess that she was in a room based on how the blurred items were positioned.

A sharp throbbing pain blossomed in Clary's head as she tried to decipher the shapes.

The whole scene shifted and now Clary stood in the middle of a dark plain which has just another blur. There was a shimmering in front of her, a few feet away.

The throbbing in her head returned again, this time stronger.

For a while, she stood there in the plain, clutching her head in her hands. A slight cool feeling overtook her and Clary felt her hair move in a wind she didn't feel.

And, in a sudden, Clary felt like she was being thrown through time, blurs and muffled words flying past her. A sharp pressure on her chest pressed against her, making it hard for Clary to breath. She felt her heart rate pick up and her breathing quicken in panic. The air was crushing her, a heavy burden on her chest.

She was now in a dark, muted room lit by only what seemed like fire and something brighter. Someone screamed in Clary's ears, the sound sending stabs of pain into her ears and slivers of ice down her spine.

The scream was filled with agony and it was clear to her ears instead of the muffled, hushed sounds she had been hearing.

Someone with a high, clear voice spoke though the words were muffled. The voice rang with authority and was grudgingly dark. Another scream bounced off the walls and and Clary crumpled to her knees, clamping her hands over her ears. The scream sound so tortured … so intense that Clary felt she was the one in agony.

Again, coolness washed over her and when Clary opened her eyes, she saw herself standing in a familiar surrounding. The scene before her was less blurred, clearer in ways.

"Clary, can you run down to the store and get me a box of milk?"

Clary froze at the voice. Though muffled, it was easily identifiable as the voice that belonged to her mother.

"Yeah, mom." an equally familiar voice replied. Her own.

 _Okay … this just got crazy_ , Clary thought.

She was thrown into another scene again, this time everything was clear and defined. Not a single thing was blurred.

She was in her house and it looked like how it had looked the last time she saw it.

Everything had been ruined, the television overturned and glass, wood splinters and dirt on the floor.

Fear spiked in her chest and her blood pounded in her ears as her feet involuntarily lead her to the master bedroom. Her breathing hitched in her chest as a stab of fear plunged itself into Clary's stomach.

Clary knew what lied in the master bedroom but she had to _see_.

It felt like ice water had been shot into her veins as she saw a crumpled, mangled figure at the end of the room, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

"Not again … no … not again." Clary gasped as she sank to to her knees, a hand clutched to the place where her heart was. Pain engulfed her in a crushing wave, her head thudding and throbbing almost unbearably as she clutched her head in between her hands.

She screamed one loud and long scream; a scream of pain, grief, stress and loss.

Clary fisted her hands in her hair and jerked when she felt two strong, warm arms wrapping around her body. This time, she could hear things around her; panicked words, someone screaming frantically and the most clearest thing. A rapid heartbeat against her ear.

"Come back," the familiar voice whispered and Clary obeyed, letting her mind wander into oblivion.

Jace watched with anticipation in his chest as Jem put his fingers to Clary's temple.

A slight pang of jealousy washed through Jace and he scolded himself harshly (a scolding that involved plenty of profanities) for having such stupid feelings towards Jem. He was doing them a favor and here he was, feeling jealous over something useless. Only mundanes felt like this.

"Close your eyes and concentrate on your surroundings. Clear your mind of anything else other than your surroundings." Jem said, his voice calm and gentle.

Jace watched intently as Clary took a deep breath that seemed to relax her whole body.

Jace moved closer until he was sitting beside Clary on the couch.

Clary's breathing seems to match Jace's, her clenched fists unclenching.

A few seconds later, Jace heard Jem suck in a sharp breath, his fingers going rigid. Clary was still in her relaxed state though Jace's heart was hammering like the force of a jackhammer against his ribs as he watched the Ex-Silent Brother take a slow breath.

Jace kept his eyes on Clary as her eyes fluttered behind her eyelids. Tessa moved forward so she stood a feet from Jem, her forehead creased.

Jem's breathing became uneven, the steady pace of his breathing rattling.

Clary's fist clenched and unclenched, her hands shaking as the rise and fall of her chest quickened.

"Clary?" Jace said. Isabelle stepped forward, her eyes wide with worry.

Clary moaned softly, her face twisting in pain. Jace cursed softly to himself, his mind running wild with the different possibilities of what could be going on in her head.

Jem cursed softly once, the creases on his forehead deepening.

Jace reached put a hand towards Jem but Tessa and Isabelle grabbed his hand at the same time.

"Don't. You'll disturb his concentration. That'd be bad for the both of them." Tessa said, her an forehead creased. Isabelle just shook her head once before releasing his hand. Jace felt like slapping Isabelle.

Clary relaxed slightly again before she went taut, her fists clenching and unclenching again and again.

This pattern repeated for the next minute while Jace sat beside Clary, feeling like pulling his hair out.

Praising the Angel, Jace exhaled in relief when Clary relaxed completely, her hands going limp by her side. Jem's breathing had returned to normal again, just his forehead was creased; this time in concentration.

"I think it's almost over," Tessa said, smiling gratefully.

A sound that made everyone in the library jump was heard. They realized that it was Jem, growling and groaning, his hands shaking.

Clary gasped, whipping her head slowly from side to side, her forehead creased. Panic the size of a freight train beat the shit out of Jace.

Jem made a indignant sound of pain and he yanked his shaking hands back harshly. Jace watched in open mouthed horror as Jem fell to his side, unconscious. He breathed heavily, his hands clutched to his chest as he gasped occasionally, each breath sounding painfully.

Tessa immediately kneeled beside Jem, cradling his head in her lap, murmuring to him softly in Chinese.

Just as Maryse got out of her seat to see to Jem, Clary screamed.

Jace whipped his head around to see Clary clutching her head as she screamed bloody murder. She fell into Jace who wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair.

"Where is Alexander?" Maryse growled, picking the phone.

Tessa continued to murmur quiet things to Jem, occasionally throwing frantic orders at Colette who seemed frozen in shock. Jace hissed loudly in anger and concentrated on Clary alone.

"Come back." Jace murmured as he held Clary's thrashing body. Almost immediately, her body relaxed and she leaned against Jace's chest. "Come back to me, Clary." Jace said, kissing her hair gently.

 _You're fine_ , Jace growled -to assure himself or Clary, he didn't known - in his head, as he continued to hold to Clary, his eyes on Clary and his ears on Jem.

 **A/N - Thanks for reading :) Leave a review if you like!**


	16. Shadows of the Mind

**Chapter 15: Shadows of the Mind**

Jace knocked on Isabelle's door, mentally slapping himself.

 _He was Jace Herondale._ He didn't knock.

Without waiting for a granted permission, Jace turned the knob and walked in.

He saw Isabelle on the floor, her legs on the seat of a Victorian high backed chair as she did push ups, a layer of perspiration on her forehead.

"What are you doing?" Jace said. Isabelle had disappeared from the infirmary an hour ago and Jace had spent the whole half hour searching for her. The other half was spent making sure Clary was okay and stable.

"Defying the laws of nature. What does it look like, smartass?" she growled as she tried to steady her rattling breaths. She counted softly to herself as she did another set of push ups, her arms visibly shaking with strain. Jace wondered idly how long had she been at this. "Now, get out." she spit, a drop of sweat rolling off the side of her face and onto her carpeted floor. She lowered her upper body until her chin nearly touched the floor before pushing herself up again.

"Bite me," Jace said, casually walking into the room and sitting on Isabelle's bed.

"Gladly. Just let me wrap up." Isabelle did one more push up before standing straight, flexing the muscles of her arms and shoulders.

"What do you want, Jace?" Isabelle sighed, grabbing a white piece of cloth that was hanging by the headboard of Isabelle's bed. She wiped it across her neck and forehead, looking at Jace with a resigned look.

"You left the infirmary just like that. The moment Tessa gave the thumbs up on Clary and Jem's condition, you just left."

"It's a free country," Isabelle said, shrugging out of her sweat soaked tank top, leaving her only in her shorts and a fuchsia colored bra. Jace continued looking at his sister, the sight of an almost topless Isabelle didn't faze or irk Jace out. He had seen Isabelle in underwear only plenty of times and once completely topless after a tipsy night at a vampire club.

"Yeah … you leaving without reason is _definitely_ the precise example of a citizen living in a free country." Jace said, smiling as Isabelle slipped into her bathroom. Jace heard the water run.

"You know Jace, technically, we aren't even citizens of this country. We live completely off the grid. No ID's, no passports, no driving licenses - well, not genuine ones, anyway ..." Isabelle said, her voice muffled through the sound of the shower and the door. Jace knew that Isabelle was now stalling, trying to avoid what Jace was going to ask her. Jace tuned out, looking at his fingernails. They were long yet bitten. He had to get his hands on a pair of nail clippers.

A few seconds later Isabelle stepped out fully dressed, her body smelling faintly of lavender.

How she had managed to take a bath and change in fifty seconds flat was beyond Jace.

"Will you stop being a baby and tell me what's wrong with my baby sister?" Jace said, looking at Isabelle who plopped herself in front of her vanity, running a comb through her wet hair, avoiding eye contact with Jace through the mirror.

"No." Isabelle said, tugging at the sleeves of the pink three quarter shirt she wore.

"And I'm accepting that one syllable answer … because?"

Isabelle didn't answer but instead looked around the room, sighing as she caressed the frame of her vanity table.

"I miss my room." Isabelle whispered.

"Is there something I'm missing here, Iz?" Jace said, watching as his sister's face turned blank.

"I just miss it you know? The calm, the peace … normality." Isabelle said, playing with her hairbrush.

"What peace and normality? We're Shadowhunters for crying out loud." Jace asked, not sure how to react. Alec was always the one for touchy stuff with Isabelle, not Jace.

"The peace before that one damn fateful night in Pandemonium." Isabelle sighed. "Walk with me to the infirmary?"

Jace nodded, getting up from his comfortable seat on Isabelle's bed.

Jace went back to that night that had changed his screwed up life into...a more increasingly screwed up life which was better in enormous ways. The night he had met Clary. Because of that night, he had found and felt the true meaning of love and felt the anguish of loss. His thoughts flew back to Max, his youngest brother which he had lost at the very beginning of a war filled with blood, death, loss, evil, demons and Shadowhunters.

"Can you imagine if we hadn't taken that mission? If we had gone to hunt those Ravener demons in the Upper East Side instead of choosing Pandemonium?" Isabelle said, hugging herself.

Jace was quiet for a while, trying to imagine. Honestly, Jace had never given a single thought about this. He hadn't have to. He had everything he wanted, no regrets whatsoever. They had lost many friends and comrades in the war but everything had turned out alright, if not perfect, in the end. But he _couldn't_ imagine if he hadn't found Clary in the club that night or rather, _Clary_ found Jace.

"I can't." Jace said, looking at the rock-like walls of the thousand year old Institute.

"Sorry?" Isabelle murmured, looking back at Jace.

"I said I can't imagine if we hadn't taken that mission. I wouldn't have found Clary, I wouldn't have found the truth about myself ..." Jace trailed off.

"But things would be so … _easy_."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'd still be screwing with a different girl every week, I'd go back to becoming the annoying ass that annoys the crap out of everyone and probably grow old with Church or something."

"You are still the annoying ass that annoys the crap and wits out of everyone … if it makes you feel better." Isabelle offered, picking at a chipped, unpainted nail.

Jace cocked an eyebrow at her, staring at her. " _Yes_ , that makes me _extremely_ happy. And I wonder why I ever doubted my love for you."

Isabelle didn't say anything though she smiled a small superior smile.

"Are you okay?" Jace asked, putting a hand on his sister's shoulder.

Isabelle whipped her head to her side to glare at Jace, her eyes narrowed to slits. By the look she was giving him now, if he had been someone else, he would have run and hid under a rock for the rest of eternity but, luckily, he wasn't.

"My bloody _parabatai_ is _unconscious_ after a deadly shrink session with a Silent Brother that is old enough to be my great grandfather -" Isabelle sucked in a sharp breath, trying to calm herself. "No, Jace. For the God know what number in my hellhole life, everything is once again _perfectly_ horrid and screwed up and sick and just freaking crumbling apart. The first one I could take. The second one, I accepted. The third one, I bared with it for Alec's sake. The forth I stayed strong for Clary and you … but this one … I'm _breaking_ , okay? So, _**no**_. I am _**not**_ okay. You and Alec are rarely there for me and there are some things that Simon _will_ _**never**_ understand -"

Isabelle cut off before she lapsed into silence, staring straight ahead.

Jace couldn't help the sick feeling of pity and guilt in the pits of his stomach. All this years, Isabelle had displayed herself as a hard, untouchable shield yet here she was, looking as if she were standing at a brink of a cliff, waiting for somebody to push her.

The next thing Jace knew, he was hugging Isabelle in a tight bone crushing hug. "Lightwoods, all together, remember?"

Isabelle laughed quietly into Jace's chest. He felt something warm seep through the fabric of his black shirt. Tears.

Suddenly Isabelle stiffened against Jace.

"Simon," she breathed, pulling away.

"The Shadowhunter?"

"No, the priest. _Yes_ , the Shadowhunter!" Isabelle said sarcastically, punching Jace in the arm.

"That explains a lot. A priest will _totally_ understand you killing demons. We practically do eighty percent of his job for him, minus exorcisms. Then again ... Simon is a Shadowhunter ..."

Isabelle rolled her eyes, swatting Jace on the arm again. Streaks of shed tears were visible on her cheeks. She hastily rubbed them away with her sleeve.

"What's the chance of mom letting Simon see Clary?"

"About a zero point zero zero one." Jace said.

Isabelle grinned. "That's all I need."

She sped down the hallway as usual without stating where she was going, disappearing after a second. Jace looked at the wall ahead for a long moment, reflecting on his decisions. He knew it was stupid to think about things that would never happen because he had chosen something else but he couldn't help but think of the different outcomes.

What if he _had_ chosen to go to that ghetto in the Upper East Side? The choice to go to Pandemonium had all been him; he had been the start of it all. What if Alec or Isabelle had been the one to look for Clary the next day? What if they had just _given up_ when she ran away from Java Jones and came back to the Institute empty handed? What if Simon had came into the picture first before Jace had decided to kiss Clary? He hadn't planned that kiss but the thought of Simon anywhere near those lips pushed him to finally kiss Clary. That and a curiosity on what he was feeling? If it had been one of his short term attractions or something more...long term? Permanent? Of course, Jace wanted and felt more after he had kissed Clary so he _knew_. What if he hadn't gone after Valentine before the Mortal War? If he had stayed in bed with Clary that whole night, watching her sleep and fought in the War the next day.

So many more what if's popped into his head. Things would and could have turned out better or worse. Better for Clary. Worse for Jace. Better for Jace. Worse for Clary.

He pushed the thoughts away and continued towards the infirmary, to check on Clary and Jem.

He shouldered the doors open, surprised to hear voices.

Jace saw Jem sitting up on his bed, talking to Tessa who was caressing his face.

A sudden overwhelming anger sprang free and washed over Jace. He leapt at the Ex-Silent Brother. He grabbed Jem by his jacket, fisting his hands on the soft fabric.

"What. The. Bloody. Hell. Was. That?" Jace growled, raising a fist.

"Jace" Tessa gasped, shocked. She tried to pry Jace's hand off Jem though it only made Jace tighten his grip.

He felt the Heavenly Fire inside him ignite again and Jace struggled to calm himself before it got bad for Jem. He could see that his hands had started to glow slightly; not very noticeable but it was still glowing.

Jem looked stressed and worried, his forehead creased. He looked guilty, yes, but also confused. He wasn't even flinching when Jace was two inches from his face, practically fuming.

"I don't know ..." Jem murmured, his dark hair tumbling into his eyes.

"Jace, let him go. Relax." Tessa said, gripping Jace's hand gently. Taking a deep breath-knowing he would regret what he was about to do next-Jace released Jem back onto the bed. He retreated to the foot of the bed, clenching his hands before crossing them over his chest. The place we're Jace had fisted his hands in Jem's jacket were a brownish black. Burnt.

"Explain."

Jem sat back against the headboard, raking a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what really happened back there. Maybe it's because I'm no longer as strong as I was as a Silent Brother but it was actually painful for me." Jem said, his forehead creased.

"What do you mean?" Jace said leaning forward slightly. He could feel his anger residing, the warm glow disappearing altogether. Jace sighed before looking back up at Jem.

"When I was … in her mind, I couldn't see anything properly. It was like looking through a foggy glass or muddy water. I don't how it was like for Clary but I was basically blind in there." Tessa sat beside Jem, listening intently. "I tried to get a better view but the harder I tried, the fuzzier it got and I couldn't breathe. I'm not kidding when I say that I had the migraine of the century. It got worse but I tried harder and _finally_ I could see shapes and hear things." Jem shuddered.

"Did you see anything useful? Like how and why Clary can't remember?" Jace said, his tone on the borders of sarcastic and serious.

"There were two voices. Familiar ones. One more than the other. But I can't put a name to them. It's wasn't clear enough. Safe to say, she has a Block on her mind. A strong and very unique one." Jem sighed. Jace moved to Clary's bedside, sitting in the chair beside it. Clary lay on her side, facing Jace. Her face was peaceful as she slept, her mouth gaping open slightly.

"Great. So we've got nothing, basically." Jace muttered, not looking away from Clary.

"We do but I just can't put a finger on it."

Jace continued staring at Clary, the clockwork in his head working as he tried to remember anything useful he saw from his time in London.

A gruesome picture flashed in his mind-gruesome but helpful.

"Back in London, when I went after Clary, I noticed something I didn't remember before. The enkeli rune on one of the destroyed furniture. If that was in that house, it's possible whoever that had been keeping or starting with Clary the last year was or is a Shadowhunter."

"That narrows our list slightly. I could go through the records in the Silent City for any recently deceased or missing Nephilim. It's not very likely that this person who has been keeping Clary is still a Clave member … but I'll search through everything. I hope Clary can give me a name ..."

"But that would mean searching through hundreds of files which could take days … you don't even know if this person really is who Clary will say she is." Tessa said, her mind working.

Jem sighed. "It's times like this when I wish that Henry were still alive. He'd make some mud stupid looking device that'd explode in our faces at first but then work to help us find a certain person or object."

Jace looked at Jem, his eyebrows raised. "You know, mundanes have some things like that. They're called Facebook and Google." he said matter-of-a-factly.

"I doubt anything mundane is going to help us in this problem, Jace." Tessa muttered, not noticing the sarcasm in Jace's statement.

Clary stirred, moaning as she opened her eyes. She blinked a few times to clear her vision.

"I take that it was a bad idea?" she croaked.

Jace exhaled in relief for the second time in that hour. The first was when he was told Clary would have no internal head trauma whatsoever. He held back from hugging her.

"No … not entirely." Jace said, deciding to cut Jem some slack.

"I feel like I'm having my brain being played around with." Clary groaned, lying on her back.

"If it makes you feel any better, so does the next guy." Jace shifted slightly Clary could see Jem who was also looking at her.

"I take it now's a good time for an apology?" Jem said.

"Yes." Jace and Clary said at the same time, making Tessa giggle quietly.

"Clary, I truly am sorry -"

"And?" Jace cut in, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, shut up, Jace." Clary scolded, swatting his arm.

Jem sighed. "And you can expect a ten page apology on you bed tomorrow."

Clary laughed, propping herself up.

The smile on her face disappeared as she gasped in pain.

Jace put a hand on Clary, helping her sit up.

"Are you okay?" Jace asked worriedly, his forehead creased.

"Yeah ... just peachy."

She leaned her head against the headboard, closing her eyes. "I feel like someone stuck my brains in a blender ... no offense to you, Jem."

"None taken." Jem replied.

Jem seemed to be forgetting what he had wanted to ask Clary. Jace cleared his throat loudly, looking at Jem meaningfully until the old man remembered.

"Oh! Um … Clary … would you mind shedding some light on you mother's identity? It would-"

"What?" Clary said, the words coming out a whisper: eerily quiet.

"I was just hoping you could tell me anything about your … mother." Jem said, wincing as he shifted his body slightly.

Looking at the both of them, you'd think they'd went to World War III and came back.

"What for?" Clary's voice was eerily quiet and Jace knew what it meant. She was a ticking time bomb at the moment. One that could explode at any point in time.

"It would help me find your … mother's background if I knew more about her so I can dig her out and see why she kidna-"

The time bomb exploded.

"There is _**nothing**_ for you to find because my mother has done _**nothing**_ wrong. She was _**not**_ a criminal that kidnapped me and even if she did, all these years, the only thing she has done was protect me and be a mother to me whereas all you people have done so far is _**hurt me**_!"

Jace flinched at her words. Each word was like a physical blade being twisted in Jace's stomach. Was that all they had been doing? Hurting her?

Clary swung her legs over the side and stood up a little too fast, stumbling as she did. Her hand shot out to brace herself against the wall.

Automatically, Jace shot up and out of his seat, ready to help. Clary yanked her hand back, muttering "Don't touch me." she said, her voice cracking at the end.

Jace watched as Clary left, her hand clamped over her mouth as she fought against the sobs, feeling like every step she took was a drag of a dagger against his heart.

As soon as the words left Clary's mouth, she felt so guilty she could eat a cow. But the amount of anger she felt right now made her feel like she could eat a whale.

That hadn't been wholly true but the words were entirely impromptu. In truth, they had saved her and protected her and tried to help her ...

 _But how dare they accuse her mother of hurting or kidnapping her in any way?!_

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Jace flinch, his jaw trending and more guilt rushed into Clary, this time asking with a wave of sadness, mixing with her anger.

Clary knew Jace was hurting from her words and it pained her to know she was hurting someone. Before she could break down in front of them, Clary got to her feet - maybe a little _too_ fast. She saw the world around her sway and she shot an arm out against the wall before she could leave a permanent dent on the floor. Or vice versa.

She saw Jace reach for her and she quickly yanked her hand back, cradling it to her chest like it was an injured animal.

"Don't touch me." Clary said, the words coming out more venomous than she had intended. Like a layer of thin ice, she heard her voice crack at the end.

She clamped her hand which wasn't cradled to her chest over her mouth, swallowing and holding in sobs that were caught in her throat, begging to be released. A few escaped but they weren't loud ones, fortunately.

She could barely see through the tears as she turned the corner so she wasn't surprised when she rammed into someone tall with dark hair.

Isabelle.

"Hey, Clary. I -" she cut off, gently grabbing Clary's shoulders. "What's wrong? What happened?" she demanded. Her protective, worried tone reminded Clary of her mother, another round of grief.

"No-n-nothing, Isab-b-belle. I'm just need some time alone, okay?" Clary stuttered, shrugging away from Isabelle. "Please don't follow me."

Before Clary could even take two steps, she heard Isabelle giving Jace, Tessa and Jem a flare out, Isabelle demanding what was their problem.

" _Okay! Who do I have to bitch slap? What is your problem?! I am going to dismember your -_ "

Not really knowing where the heck she was going, Clary stumbled down unknown hallways until her legs began to shake.

She leaned against a cool wall before sliding onto the floor, her sobs escaping fully as she pulled her knees to her chest. On cometh the water works.

She had promised herself to be strong at the start of all this mess, that she wouldn't go to pieces. But, here, sitting in this dingy hallway, Clary decided that it was okay to crumble apart after all. So she did.

Clary realized that this was the first time she had grieved over her mother in private. The first time, Jace and Isabelle had been there. Both at the time, complete strangers.

In her head, Clary replayed everything about her mother.

How she would laugh - occasionally - at something that Clary didn't understand before sobering up, how she like to push her hair to the right when her hair was down, how she almost always seemed to have a stubborn, determined set to her jaw though it occasionally looked painful and how she would always remind Clary to not talk to strangers and come home immediately after she had ran her errand. Those tiny little things that she now missed the most.

If it was true she was _actually_ Clarissa Fairchild, that would mean her real mother was someone else out there. But who? She was smart and logical enough in this whole mess that she could piece two and two together.

But the endless possibilities on how she was with Keayla Ashworth instead of her real mother made her head spin and her heart squeeze tightly in her chest.

She pushed that thoughts away as she cried, not being able to bear the thought that her mother wasn't her real mother at all.

It was either seconds, minutes or hours before her tears dried and she was left staring at the wall, her legs pulled up to her chest, her arms around her legs and her hair hanging limply down her face.

Faintly, she heard the sound footsteps.

"Go away, Isabelle. I just need some time alone." Clary said, her voice muffled against the sleeve of her arm she was resting on.

"That's going to be a problem, then." Clary stiffened at the voice, turning her head slightly.

Jace stood in the hallway, towering over her like an angel of destruction towering over the terrified people as the world ended. Grand, beautiful and grave.

"Not if you leave." Clary muttered, staring at the floor.

"What if I don't?" Jace said in the most annoying way known to man, folding himself onto the floor two feet away from where Clary sat.

She was very aware of Jace's proximity from her peripheral vision but didn't move or say anything.

"You know, it's not what Jem meant when he said that." Jace said softly, looking at the ceiling as he talked.

"Sure sounded like it."

"Now, you're just sounding like a brat." Jace said, looking at her.

"Now, you're sounding like a insensitive boy!" Clary said, feeling this conversation rising into a banter.

"Well, I can't be a girl now, can I?" Jace retorted.

"I'm going to ignore in silence." Clary said. _Now_ she felt like a brat. Thanks, Jace.

"Come one, Clary. I came to talk. Entertain me."

"Why do you want to talk?" Clary said. There couldn't possibly be anything Jace wanted to say to her.

"Because I care." Jace said as if he were stating the obvious. What he said was _so_ not Jace. Jace couldn't possibly _care_ for her. "And because Isabelle threatened to _unmanlify_ \- if you know what I mean - me." There's the famous, more known side of Jace.

"Why do you care? Why does Isabelle care? I doubt I was _that_ big of a part in your lives."

"Well … to Alec, you were a good friend. To Isabelle, you're still her _parabatai_ -"

" _Wait! What?!_ "

"You were Isabelle's parabatai."

" _What?_ "

"Are you going deaf?" Jace said, sounding annoyed.

"I just can't … believe...that she's my … _parabatai_."

"What? You need proof?"

"Well, a little proof will be nice?" Clary said, trying to wrap her head around the concept of Isabelle being her _parabatai_.

Jace leaned closer to her, muttering "Stay still." when Clary tried to move away. I lifted his hand and placed it on her jacket, pinching the fabric with a thumb and index finger.

With her heart beating a mile a minute, Clary didn't dare move and Jace nudged the fabric of her jacket aside, followed by her tank top.

"There it is," Jace mumbled, sighing.

"What the fu -" Clary growled when Jace gently tapped a spot between her collarbone and shoulder.

Jace _tsked_ her, smiling an amused, weary smile. "No swearing in church."

"We're not in a church, assface." Clary muttered, flicking him the finger.

Jace chuckled, looking surprised and amused. "The Institute _is_ a church, Clary. It's built on hallowed ground. Keeps the demons away." Jace said, sitting back slightly.

"Before I slap you, care to explain why you tried to molest me?" Clary said, tugging at her jacket.

"Don't." Jace said. "Look at the scar on your shoulder, above your heart."

Clary sighed. She knew what was there. Another scar. "A scar's there. I know. Why?"

Jace pulled his own shirt aside, revealing a matching one to his shoulder except that his one was black … alive, so to speak.

"That is the parabatai rune. It binds the two people together, forging the blood relationship."

"Why is mine white?"

"As I said … when a Shadowhunter dies, all of his or her runes become inactive. For runes such as the parabatai rune, binding runes and marriage runes, where two parties are involved, both parties lose the inactivity, dead or alive." Jace tone was a dead monotone, like he was reciting a paragraph from a textbook.

"Ah ..."

"Yes."

They sat in silence for a moment, Clary replaying what Jace had said in her mind.

Quietly, she said, "You know … you haven't told me why you care."

Jace looked at her, his shoulders slumped.

"If I tell you will you follow me back to the library? Maryse, apparently, has something to say to all of us."

Involuntarily, the corner of Clary's lips twitched into a small, crooked smile. "That's bribery, sir."

"Can you resist my offer?" he said, cocking his head.

"Put on a mask or a tutu or something. Your face is distracting me." Clary said, playfully making an annoyed face at Jace.

"Let me guess … too beautiful … grand … magnificent … angelic?"

"No. Too goddamn ugly." Clary said quickly, making Jace scowl. Clary laughed quietly.

"C'mon, Jace. Tell me."

Jace face softened, slightly, his eyes losing their hard gaze. "I care," he said slowly, like he was trying to see if this was the best idea in telling her. "Because I care. When I know I shouldn't." he said abruptly.

Jace got up from the floor and started down the hall, towards the library, Clary suspected.

"You coming?" This was cold, hard Jace again, the high and mighty, arrogant tone in his voice returning.

Puzzled, Clary got up from where she sat and quietly followed him.

Everybody, it seemed, had gathered in the library.

Maryse was sitting at the table, head bent over several fat books. Isabelle stood in the corner with a pale, brown haired boy who stared at her with a shocked expression. He had the a few runes up and down his body, lesser than Alec, Isabelle and Jace.

"Cl -" the brown haired boy started to say but Isabelle gently shushed him, throwing Clary a gentle smile.

Jace gently tugged Clary along before she could return the smile. Alec stood a little to the side in his own quiet corner, reading what appeared to be a comic book. Jem stood behind Maryse, reading over her shoulder. Tessa stood beside him, an arm wrapped around Jem's waist.

The ex Silent Brother looked up and smiled nervously at her, saying sorry with his eyes. Ruefully, Clary returned the smile with her own small smile.

"Are we all here?" Maryse said, not looking up.

"Colette isn't-" Alec started.

"Let me rephrased this for mom: Are all the normal, civilized and humanlike people here?" Jace said. Everybody except Clary said yes in unison.

"Good," Maryse said. Finally, she looked up, her expression extremely tired.

"We have decided that, until more light is shined on Clary's … situation, this is to be kept from the Clave. Jem, Tessa and I will go through the old records of the Silent Brothers' archives for information of Clary's mother." Maryse said.

"And us?" Isabelle said.

Maryse smiled though it was a tired and weary smile.

"I decided that the children -" all three of the Lightwood...teenagers scowled at the term 'children'. "- should investigate on the demon attack that Clary suffered … and check her house for clues."

Clary's eyes widened. No, no, no …

"For the next few days, besides myself, Jem and Tessa, all of you are going to London."

 **A/N - Again, thanks for reading!**


	17. City of Ghosts

**Chapter 16: City of Ghosts**

"This is _way_ too early," Jace groaned, sighing. Maryse rolled her eyes and Clary chuckled, looking on.

All of them had been woken up at the crack of dawn by an extremely grumpy Jem. Clary remembered being in a warm, pleasant dream before finding her body cold. Jem had yanked her covers off her, ordering her to wake up (apparently only after ten minutes of banging at her door and a couple of shakes had he turned to that). Jace, apparently, had been given a frightful awakening by a recording of a quacking duck in his ear on Jem's phone. Turns out the seemingly untouchable boy was afraid of ducks. Hilarious (Jace had thrown multiple sharp objects at Jen for that). Isabelle was the only one that escaped Jem's morning grumpiness because she was already awake. Alec had gotten the worst wake up call among all of them. He had woken open gasping, drenched in cold water.

An hour later, here they all stood in the library, glaring at Jem who was now treating himself to a warm cup of coffee, watching all of them with guilty eyes.

She watched as Maryse faced her two biological children, holding a rattling set of keys in one hand. Jace was standing behind a high backed Victorian chair, looking like he was using the piece of furniture for support as he watched everyone in the room disinterestedly with his amber chips.

He looked like he had thrown on the first things his hands had touched: a wrinkled black shirt, a wrinkled leather jacket, black pants and boots that looked like weapons themselves.

Isabelle held her hand out for the key expectantly, grinning, eyeing the keys like they were diamonds.

"Nope," Maryse muttered quietly before her hand shifted to Alec's, dropping the keys into his palm. "I am not trusting my seventeen year old daughter with a two million dollar estate. Not after the last time."

Isabelle groaned. "It was _one_ time, mom. I was fifteen!"

Maryse shook her head.

"Now, the house is fully equipped for living in. There is a two month stock of food in the kitchen. There are weapons located all over the house. Check the kitchen cupboards, drawers and inside the fridge. There also some under the floorboards if you look carefully, under every bed and behind every painting except the Picasso one in the first living room. There are also some under the furniture. The underground wine cellar is _completely_ off limits as well as the underground weapons room. Now, for gear -" Maryse rambled on, telling them which was off limits, which was inappropriate, which was unnecessary.

"Sounds like they're preparing for war, huh?" a quiet, amused voice behind her said. Clary jumped, a hand flying to her throat as she stifled a squeak. She whirled around and sighed in relief when she saw it was only Simon.

A few minutes after Maryse had told them they were going to London the next day, Simon had walked in, accompanied by Isabelle. The pale boy had gotten paler at the sight of Clary. He had ran over to her and embraced her tightly. It had felt like he was crushing her ribs.

After prying him away, Isabelle had pulled him into a corner and talked to him, throwing worried glances at Clary every so often.

Slowly, Jace had explained that Simon had been her best friend and was also a Shadowhunter.

As scary as the fact she was supposed to be friends with Shadowhunters, Simon was kinda cool. He was the most normal in her eyes … the one she could relate to the most. Like the most sense of normal among the whole group.

"Yeah," Clary replied, watching the Lightwoods.

Isabelle had begun to pout as Jace laughed. Isabelle flipped her annoying blond brother the finger, folding her arms over her chest haughtily. Maryse glared at her daughter for that. Simon chuckled quietly, rolling his eyes.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to fight for my girlfriend's honor." Simon said as he started to walk away. "Good to have you back, Fray."

Clary stiffened involuntarily at that last sentence. Fray?

Tessa walked into the room, her hair tied into a sloppy bun which was held in place by what looked like a stele. She wore light blue jeans that looked designer and a vintage yet simple looking floral print blouse, a golden belt hanging loosely around her waist.

"Okay guys … are we ready?" she asked.

"Nope." Jace said, popping the 'p'.

"I'll take that as a yes." Tessa muttered.

"Nobody ever listens to me." Jace muttered. Clary suppressed a smile.

"That's because you never say anything worth listening to." Isabelle said lazily, stretching her long body like a cat.

Jace muttered something under his breath, causing Isabelle to glare at him.

"I think we're good." Isabelle said.

"No." Maryse said quickly. "You're missing one more person."

Jace looked at her sharply. "You didn't."

"Jace, the more help you get -"

" _Mother!_ " Isabelle growled.

" _Guys, don't leave without me!_ " a loud, snobbish voice screamed through the Institute.

 _Oh no._

Jace groaned, hanging his head.

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose.

Isabelle put her fingers which were shaped like a gun to her head.

"Kick me." Simon muttered.

Clary rolled her eyes.

Jem looked at them with pitiful eyes, wincing.

Colette burst through the doors, dressed in what had to be the most eye catching outfit for a Shadowhunter.

Extremely tight pants, a tight tank top (her cleavage still spilling), a leather jacket and mid calf high boots with unnecessary looking studs along the edge of the shoes.

"Morning, everyone!" she beamed.

Across the room, Alec shot her a look that said: _Is she even human?_

Clary shook her head, shrugging, wondering that herself.

The Portal spit Clary out half a second after Jace was. She was out in time to see Jace falling on top of Alec who went down with an _omph_ as his jaw and body collided with the concrete.

Clary was thrown onto the concrete, just in time for Isabelle to catch her before her head banged against the rocky surface.

Jace groaned, the bottom part of his body hitting the concrete. He arched his back in pain, his elbow digging into Alec who _omph'ed_ again when he was pushed back down.

Jace rubbed his tailbone, groaning.

"Thanks for breaking my fall, _parabatai._ " Jace said, getting off Alec.

"Thanks for breaking my jaw, floor." Alec groaned, shoving Jace off before he could get up on his own. His stele was out to trace a rune over his jaw immediately.

"Your welcome," Jace retorted.

"Thanks, Isabelle." Clary muttered.

Jace stretched, groaning. "Wasn't that interesting? She even poisons Portals." Jace said, glaring at the shimmering, transparent Portal. Colette had been the one to draw the Portal and Clary wondered if who drew the Portal affected it. Clary remembered the trip through Jace's Portal when she was in the brink of unconsciousness. It had been a warm, rusher quick ride while the journey through Colette's Portal had been like being thrown into a cement truck which was in tornado which was in the middle of a tsunami.

There was a soft cry before Colette was flung out from the Portal and fell -

Right into Jace's arms.

Isabelle tightened her grip upon Clary's hand almost painfully at the sight, her jaw set and her eyes burning.

" _Merci_ , Jace." Colette breathed. Jace nodded stiffly, helping her steady herself.

Clary rolled her eyes.

"Before my breakfast makes a reappearance, shall we get inside the house?" Alec said, rolling his own eyes. He brushed himself off, bounding up the three front steps to the door. While Alec fumbled with the lock Clary took in the outside of the house.

The lawn was empty except for a single tree by the side of the house. There were a few rose bushes along the path to the front door. Clary couldn't exactly tell where in London - or England as a matter of a fact - they were.

Alec finally unlocked it and walked in, sighing. Clary followed after him quickly, curious to see the inside.

Clary feel her jaw drop open at the sight of the interior design.

A staircase with wooden railings was in the middle of the front living room and what appeared to be sliding doors that led to a garden, the steps looked like they were made of metal. The ceiling was a plain white while the walls of the living room was a light beige, raised engravings of a singular particular rune decorating the bottom and top of the wall, spaced evenly from each other. A staircase ended at the top with a balcony that gave a clear sight of the front door.

This place looked it was built and lived in by top class interior designer

Alec groaned, walking in. Clary and the rest followed him.

Left from the staircase was the front living room, equipped with a couple of plush, comfortable couches which were positioned conveniently around a fireplace and a glass and wood coffee table. On the far end of one wall in the living room was a wall of bookshelves, filled with books.

A grand piano sat in the middle of the living room, black, sleek and beautiful. Above the fireplace, a painting of a bloody war overlooked the whole living rooms. Bodies were missing heads, limbs missing fingers, blood and gore _everywhere_.

Alec fell face first onto a grey couch, groaning. Jace yanked his parabatai off the couch before claiming the once inhabited couch face up, sighing, his arm over his eyes. Alec tumbled to the floor with an _omph_ but stayed on the carpeted surface. Light snores soon emitted from Alec's mouth while Jace stayed where he was, lying on his back, a look of complete ease on his face.

"That wasn't very nice, you dickhead," Clary said, crossing her arms.

"Hmm?" Jace said, not removing his arm from his eyes.

"There are plenty of other couches, you know?" Clary said.

"Of course I do. It's my home, after all. I just happen to like this couch in particular." Jace, finally removing his arm and looking at Clary with lazy, tired eyes.

Clary rolled her eyes. "It was a rhetorical question." Clary muttered. "As I said, it wasn't very nice to do that."

"I don't hear Alec complaining." Jace sighed, his eyes looking so tired yet they never left Clary. The way he was looking at her was unsettling, like he was staring _through_ her, seeing every secret and thought of hers.

"Let him sleep," Isabelle whispered in her ear suddenly, making her jump. Jace cocked her eyebrow at her. "Go to sleep, you conceited bastard." Isabelle growled playfully, flinging a pillow that was suddenly in her hands at him. Jace caught it in mid air, grinning like an idiot before burying his face in the pillow.

"I call dibs on the biggest room!" Jace said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"You can't because I called dibs on it first." Isabelle said, sticking out her tongue at her brother.

"Then the second biggest one!"

"Can't. Clary's staying in that one."

"It's okay. Jace can take the room if he wants -" Clary started

"Don't be ridiculous! He's a guy. Just give them a pillow, some water and they'll call it heaven." Isabelle said.

"That's Simon. I am extremely high maintenance and that's a proud flaw." Jace said, the pillow making it hard for Clary to hear him properly.

"I heard that, glowstick!" Simon screamed from the kitchen. "Super hearing rune, remember?"

"Sorry, I forgot. Maybe if you were more appealing I would, _mundane_." Jace said casually, earning a glare from Isabelle. "Now, Clary, what about that room?" Jace said, annoying her with that arrogant, sure tone of his.

"You know what, I'll take the room." Clary said. Isabelle laughed and Jace groaned.

"Get thee gone, woman and bring your red-headed fireball with you. Let me revel in depression alone!" Jace groaned, turning and shifting so he was now lying face down.

On the floor, Alex mumbled something that sounded like " _Magnum_ ," before falling into a light fit of snores again.

Isabelle giggled, shaking her head. "Let's go." she said, grabbing Clary's arm. Already, Isabelle felt like the best friend she never had or, rather, remembered.

"The steps are made of iron and blessed silver. Keeps the faeries and vampires away." Isabelle said, her boots making soft tapping sounds against the metal steps.

"I'm not following." Clary said.

Isabelle sighed. "Remind me to lend you the Shadowhunter Codex." Isabelle said. Catching Clary's confused look, she smiled wearily. "It's a handbook/manual for Shadowhunters. All you need to know about the Shadow World and Shadowhunting in two thousand so pages. Perfectly illustrated. It's the bible for Shadowhunters."

Clary followed Isabelle, looking at the elegant house that was a mix of the seventeenth and twenty-first century decor. A crystal chandelier that tinkled lightly dangled from the ceiling, sounding like ice laughing. Not that ice laughed but if it did, that's how Clary imagined it would sound.

"Here's your room. I'm right across if you need me." Isabelle said. "I've stocked the closet. You might want to change into something more … durable than your t-shirt and jeans. Try Shadowhunter gear. We're leaving in ten." Clary watched as Isabelle disappeared into her room before going into her room.

Her room was something like the one in the Institute but bigger and much more elegant looking in terms of the walls and the rugs. A four poster plain white bed dominated the center space of the room, a cupboard to the side of the room. The only addition to this room compared to the ones in the Institute was a beautiful painting of a cup and a sword, sitting side by side and a working table. There was also a full body length mirror beside wardrobe.

Clary went to the wardrobe in a cautious manner. The last time she was near a wardrobe she had fainted after being attacked by a thousand mental knives.

She opened the wardrobe - half prepared to faint or major pain - ;and noticed that most of the clothes in there were black or white and were either made of cotton or leather. She spotted some blue and pink here and there but the majority were black and white. She grabbed a pair of leather pants which looked in no way stretchable or breathable. She grabbed a black tank top and a jacket, throwing them onto the bed.

She stripped out of her jeans and grey shirt before pulling on her new outfit. She freed her hair which was stuck in her collar. She padded barefoot over to the mirror and looked at herself.

In all the leather, she looked extremely badass. Her face looked tired, lines that weren't there days ago appearing when she creased her forehead.

 _All you need to do is relax_ , Clary told herself. She took a deep breath and sure enough, those lines disappeared when she wasn't frowning or stressed out.

She wondered if she mentally prepared to go to her old home - to reawaken the ghosts.

She sat on the bed trying to calm herself. She knew that she still hadn't gotten over the trauma of seeing her mother's body and she only prayed she could handle the stress until they figure out what was going on with her, what happened to her.

There was a knock on the door, pulling Clary out of her reverie and Isabelle's head peered in. "Clary, are you ready?"

Had she been sitting on the bed for the last five minutes, zoning out?

She cleared her head and got up. "Yeah."

They walked down the stairs, Jace and Alec still sleeping. Simon was snapping some pictures of them.

"Si, what are you doing?"

"Something that I can sell on eBay." Simon said in between laughs. "This is priceless."

When they got close enough, Clary tried to stifle her own laughter.

Alec was now lying on his back, the words 'I love Magnus' scribbled on his forehead in red writing. Hearts were lightly applied on his bare arms.

"Simon, what did use?" Isabelle said in between giggles.

Without looking back, Simon replied: "Your lipstick."

Immediately, Isabelle's laughter ceased. She glared at Simon. "What. Did. You. Say?"

Simon looked back and paled slightly if that was possible.

"I love you so much?"

"You owe me a new one." Isabelle muttered. "Move aside." she mumbled.

"Get up." she said, nudging Jace. He groaned, flipping her the finger almost involuntarily, like he was doing it unconsciously. She leaned back, gritting her teeth. "Alec. Get up. We've to go." Alec continued to sleep like the dead. "Boys," she hissed. Grabbing a pillow from another chair, she held it before kicking Alec in the stomach once and smacking Jace on the head with a pillow.

Before Clary could even blink, Jace had wrenched out of bed and had a dagger pointed half a centimeter from Isabelle's throat. His face looked haunted, his hand shaking.

The shock and horror that was running through Clary was real as she saw Jace almost kill his sister. Isabelle didn't even look fazed that a really sharp weapon was being held to her neck.

"Get up," Isabelle muttered, smacking his hand aside.

He tucked the dagger back into the sheath that hung around his belt swiftly though Clary saw that his hand was actually shaking. Alec was groaning as he sat up straight, rubbing his eyes and smudging some of the lipstick.

"Go wash your face." Isabelle muttered, showing him her phone. His eyes widened considerably at his reflection. He whipped his head around to glare at Simon. He punched Simon - who fell to the floor with a groan - in the face as he got up, mumbling profanities under his breath.

Jace buried his face in his hands, taking deep breaths. "Let's go." he said, standing up, brushing past Clary without as much a glance.

"Is he okay?" Clary asked Isabelle.

Isabelle looked at Clary with sad eyes. "He hasn't been okay in a _long_ time."

Revisiting her old home was like being plunged into a horrific nightmare which knew no boundaries in its horrors. She had put on a brave face as her old house came into view but on the inside, she was quivering and shaking with trauma.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jace asked, putting a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I _need_ to do this." she gently shook Jace off and headed inside after Colette. Her old house being a double storey house had a lot of ground to cover.

"Me, Clary and Simon will take the ground floor. Can you guys take the top floor?"

Isabelle and Alec nodded and started up the stairs immediately while Colette sighed, pouting before _slowly_ starting up the stairs.

Jace rolled his eyes before heading into the kitchen. Clary followed, shuddering at the last images of when she was here. The blood, the demon …

There was a patch of grey ash in a big of the kitchen.

"I don't remember the ash ..." Clary said, nudging some with her boot.

"That's what happens when a demon dies. It turns into ash."

"Ugh, this place is a dump." Simon said.

Jace poked and probed around at things, looking at them before putting them down.

"Clary, do you know where your mom kept her personal documents?" Jace said, looking up at her. He stood up, looking around.

"Yeah. In her room. Where in her room I don't know. I never asked." Clary said, sighing. The last thing she wanted to do was go into her mother's room.

Jace nodded. "Alec and Isabelle will find them in time." He went into the living room, nudging bits and pieces of furniture aside as he walked. It was heartbreaking to see the house in such horrid disorder. Jace disappeared into the guest room while Simon looked through the bookshelves. Clary wandered over to the mantel where a single photo frame stood. She picked it up and it was surprisingly still in good condition. It was a picture of her and her mother when they were redecorating the living room a few months ago.

She clutched the frame tightly, memories she wished she didn't have yet treasured at same time rushing into to her head. Impulsively, Clary threw the photo frame onto the floor, the glass frame shattering like her world.

Her mother wasn't her mother and she wasn't herself. Could things get worse?

She glared at that photo that lay on the ground, despising their fake happiness.

"What's wrong?" Jace said, darting out.

"Nothing. It slipped." Clary said, shrugging. She leaned down and grabbed the picture brushing away bits and shards of glass from the photo. A sharp pain that didn't last half a second shot through her finger, making Clary gasp. She looked at her bleeding finger, only to see that a few places in her hand had been cut.

"Let me see that," Clary looked up in surprise as Jace took her hand and took out his stele. Gently, he put it to her palm and began to draw. Clary winced slightly as the stele which stung warmly as it touched her skin.

Jace pulled back the stele but kept holding her hand the moment the rune was done. Immediately the cuts healed, not even leaving scabs in their places.

"Thank you," Clary said, fisting her hand. Jace pursed his lips, looking at her hand for a moment before continuing shifting through the debris. Clary looked at the photo, sighing as she stuffed it into her pocket.

"Found anything?" Simon replied with a mumbled no while Jace didn't say anything at all. He was on his knees, his back facing Clary. At first, Clary thought he was praying but it seemed a little out of place to pray now.

"What is it?" Clary said, kneeling beside Jace. He was feeling around at the floor, his eyes narrowed.

"That smart little bi-" Clary smacked his arm hard, making Jace cut off.

"What did you find?"

Jace took out his stele and jammed it into the floor. The floor where the stele was jabbed into sunk in. He twisted the stele like twisting a key in lock and a with a muted _pop_ , a floorboard popped up slightly. Jace leaned back, satisfied with his work.

Cautiously, Clary lifted the floorboard and saw a few daggers - covered in a layer of dust but still lethal looking.

"Smart … but where did she have the resources to do it?" Jace muttered to himself, taking out a dagger, examining it.

"Do what?"

"The only way you could ever access these daggers was if you were a Shadowhunter." Jace said. "You see, this is one of the ways Shadowhunters conceal their weapons. Usually, we conceal them in churches or -"

"What deal do we have with the church?"

"We?" Jace mused. Clary was surprised herself. She should have said: "What deal do Shadowhunters have with the church?"

Had she really accepted herself a Shadowhunter?

"It's not just churches. Shadowhunters don't cling to any particular religion in general and in return, all religions help us in our battle. We can easily go to synagogues, mosques, Shinto temples and get weapons from there."

"That's convenient," Clary murmured.

"Jace, you have to see this." Isabelle said breathily as she peered down the stairs. Clary, Jace and Simon got up but Isabelle bit her lip. Her face was pale and ashen. "I don't think you should see what's up there, Clary."

"I want to," Clary said though her voice sounded weak to her own ears.

"What is it, Isabelle?" Jace said. He looked worried, his eyes cautious.

"Just get up here and see this."

"Are you sure you want to see?" Jace said. Clary nodded and followed Isabelle up the familiar flight of stairs.

"Oh my God," Clary heard Alec hiss.

Isabelle lead them into the last place she wanted to be - her mother's room. She was terrified. Would she see her mother's decaying corpse?

The room was as Clary last saw it, excluding her mother's body. It had disappeared, only leaving crusty blood on the wall and floor. Alec, Isabelle, Colette, Simon and Jace gathered around the bed. Immediately, Clary saw Jace's face pale, his jaw gritting.

Yellowed papers were scattered across the bed, red and black writing across every single one of them. She went to stand in between Simon and Jace.

Jace picked up a paper and began reading, his face paling even more as the seconds went by.

On closer inspection, the papers looked old and the writing was written with an elegant hand with spiders handwriting. There were sketches and drawings on the paper, some of them looking gory.

Clary gently picked up one piece and began reading:

 _His final order:_

 _Retrieve an angel._

 _Test subject:_

 _Not found. In search._

 _Date: 18th November 2007_

 _We have not yet found the device but we have acquired a Warlock who is willing to perform the spell. With the war ensuing, all actions on the search for the devices has been momentarily put on halt._

 _I am worried yet relieved._

Below, there was a picture of a heart. Not the hearts you would draw on a love letter but a heart you would find in a human body. This heart seemed to be oozing black blood.

The handwriting wasn't familiar and Clary was glad that it wasn't her mother's.

She dared herself to pick up another one.

 _The Great Darkness' orders:_

 _Find a suitable test subject._

 _Test subject:_

 _An infant of two months._

 _Date: 21st May 2007_

 _I am horrified by the results. If I had not sworn on the Angel Raziel, I would not be here. The tests are failing, always failing. Some of the infants would make it through a few hours, a day at the most, but the ichor consumes them and they end up like the others. Dead._

 _We have stopped experimenting on Nephilim children as the ichor kills them immediately. My theory is that it is a reaction of Angel blood and ichor. Shadowhunter children seem to be dead end so we have begun experimenting on mundane infants though almost none of the tests have had any outcome so far._

 _Those that die the moment the ichor is administered are spared agony, lucky, if I may._

 _Today was no different. Firewell kidnapped the baby off a single mother in Wales. The baby, as expected, died. But by my hands._

 _It survived the first hour, miraculously. It was so frail and brittle that we were sure that it would die. It was in agony, of course, I could see it in its tiny little eyes._

 _Due to either my past maternal feelings or pity, I administered three times the normal dose into the infant. It died immediately._

 _Should the Clan know, I would be executed._

The other papers had notes written down here and there and drawings of pentagrams and fire.

Clary felt sick to her stomach. She could already feel the bile rising in her throat. How could someone do that to a baby? It was, at best, despicable. At worst, damnable.

"Where did you find these?" Jace said. His voice sounded like cracking ice.

"In between some books and in some floorboards. She used the -"

"I know. She hid weapons downstairs." Jace said, his voice disgusted.

"How could someone do that?" Colette choked. For once, there was real human emotion in her voice.

"Why did your mother have these notes?" Alec muttered, picking up one of the papers. "What if she was involv-"

"No." Clary spat. "My mother wouldn't have done any of this. She's too good. This is just too _wrong_ for my mother to participate in." Clary said, trying to convince herself as well as Alec. What was another reason that Keayla Ashworth had these vile notes in her bedroom?

"That's not the worst part," Isabelle said. Frankly, she looked like she was about to throw up. Clary felt the same way.

She handed Clary and Jace another paper with a shaky hand.

Jace took it and together, they read it silently.

 _Report:_

 _We have accomplished in our tasks, having found one of the key items._

 _Test subject:_

 _None._

 _Date: 3rd January 2008._

 _After years of research, we have figured out the solution. We have discovered our solution but not yet acquired it._

 _Two names play a big part in our final layout._

In big letters at the bottom of the page, two names were scrawled. Jace clenched the paper tighter, his breathing ragged.

 _CLARISSA ADELE FAIRCHILD_

 _JONATHAN CHRISTOPHER HERONDALE_

 **A/N - Hello! If you really like this book, can you guys comment? I'd like to know what you think of this story. Thanks.**


	18. By Fire and Light

**Chapter 17: By Fire and Light**

The world, to Clary, was a funny, malicious and possibly demented place that was heartless and mental. Bad things happened to good people and the bad are blessed with riches. Ordinary people were involved in horrific, scary things. Young children died. People died in sick, agonizing ways.

But these were things that Clary expected would happen to someone else.

Unfortunately, to somebody, you were always ' _someone else_ '. You couldn't be acquainted to the whole world.

And unfortunately, at this moment, Clary was ' _someone else'_.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Clary spat. She didn't know what to feel - angry, disgusted, scared or _horrified_. She was feeling a bit of everything. Her blood was pounding in her ears, her breathing harsh, her fist clenched and shaking, her legs feeling weak and boneless, her stomach roiling and her lips were trembling.

Angry and disgusted for what happened to the infants, scared and horrified for herself and Jace.

Jace.

She looked over to see how the blond haired boy who seemed untouchable was reacting.

He was stiff, his face haunted and there was a certain burning look in his eyes. His one free hand was fisted, clenched like Clary, only his hand wasn't shaking. His teeth were gritted, the muscles in his neck working. Slowly, Clary could hear his breathing quicken, growing more and more ragged by the second.

"We should go back to searching the house. No point just standing here. I'm sure there are more things to discover." Simon said, slowly sifting the papers into a stack and putting them into his messenger bag bit by bit.

And as if Simon's words had been a hammer bashing against cracking thin ice, Jace snapped like metal after it was bended too much. The paper that he was still clutching crumpled when his hand clenched tightly. He threw the paper on the bed, running a hand through his hair again and again.

He turned to leave, yelling "Damn all of this! The Angel damn all of this!"

His words had sounded like a desperate plea and cry, stabbing Clary in the heart. He sounded so _tortured_. He stalked out of the room, leaving a stir of morbid emotions behind him.

"Jace," Clary said, wanting to go after the blond boy. His words put knives in her throat.

"Clary, don't. You wouldn't do anything to help him. You wouldn't understand." Isabelle said. Her voice and words didn't sound mean. They weren't mean. Clary knew what she meant. There were many things Clary didn't understand or remember and going after Jace, trying to console him, wouldn't help. She didn't want to show him her pity too. She knew he wouldn't like it.

Isabelle turned to her brother. "Alec you go after him." she said and whispered something in his ear.

He nodded. "Jace!" Alec shouted, going after his parabatai. Isabelle looked after her brothers, her expression broken. She took a deep shaky breath with her eyes closed before she turned to help Simon with the papers.

Clary watched Alec leave, her heart stuttering in her chest. In that moment, Clary knew that she knew nothing of what Jace was feeling.

 _Snap._

Jace recalled the words that Clary said to him after he had told her the story about him when he was a young boy, his falcon and Valentine.

 _But you have to learn to bend a little," she had said as she yawned, her mouth opening into a delicate 'o'. "Or you'll break."_

Jace had broken. Again.

Breathing heavily, he tried to control his emotions. He saw the Heavenly Fire ignite, making his skin shine slightly and he fought to keep it under control.

The Fire was usually subdued, a constant but unnoticed presence in his veins. But when his emotions got out of control, the Fire would somewhat multiply and increase in power. He had gotten better at controlling it, managing to keep it down most of the time though it still flared uncontrollably on occasion.

In seconds, he was down the stairs and out of the house in seconds. He needed to cool down. It was dangerous being around anyone now in his state. Alec had called after him but he ignored his _parabatai_.

He disappeared into the back lanes, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

In his mind, he counted.

 _4 … 3 ... 2 … 1 …_

" _Jace_!"

Jace didn't look up, just continued walking. Where, he didn't know.

"Where are you running?" Alec shouted, trying to catch up.

Was he running? No. He wasn't. He didn't want to hurt Clary or anyone.

He could hear Alec catching up. Just before Alec could catch Jace, he whirled around to face his _parabatai._

"What?"

"Where are you going, Jace?" Alec said.

"I don't know, Alec. Hell maybe? But Im already in Hell, aren't I?" Jace spit, not angry at Alec in particular. He angry at someone who deserved it.

Himself.

"What do you mean?" Alec almost seemed afraid to ask this.

An involuntary laugh escaped Jace's lips. It sounded cruel, bitter and sarcastic to his own ears.

"For once, just _bloody once_ , I wish I could protect Clary. Save her from harm. Make the right choices."

"You are protecting her." Alec said. Jace wanted to slap him.

"What exactly is your definition of _protecting_ , Alec? I'm pretty sure your version and my version are two different things." He took a deep calming breath that failed miserably. "Since day _one_ , I've been putting her in jeopardy. If I had just left her alone, none of this would have happened. Jocelyn even told me she had been planning to tell Clary she was a Shadowhunter before Valentine kidnapped her. Clary would have found out and … okay. That's it. She would probably carry on being a mundane. If only I hadn't been so damn _persistent_ in going after her -" Jace cut off to take a calming breath.

He could feel the Fire rising inside of him again, slowly building to a boil.

"How would have made a difference, Jace?" Alec said calmly. "Valentine would've still kidnapped Jocelyn, probably Clary too which would have been shit tonnes worse. By going after her, you saved her."

"But I was a selfish bastard." Jace said, so quietly Alec probably didn't hear him. "By loving her, I was a selfish bastard."

"So many, so many other better, safer choices for her out there but I had to blindside her by loving her, by claiming her as mine. I never gave her chance to see better … choices. And I was too selfish … too needy to let her explore them. For me, it will always be Clary but what about her?" Jace said. His breathing was now like a thin layer of glass about to shatter.

And to his surprise, Alec laughed. It was a bitter, mocking laugh. "Jace Lightwood, when did you become such an insecure, blind and stupid man?"

Jace was taken aback by his words. He didn't feel offended, just surprised. Alec had never been one to act like an ass when consoling was needed. "You're not really helping."

"And you're not very smart at the moment. Jace, did it ever occur to you that for Clary, it would - will - also only be you? Yes, I agree, there are better bastards out there, ones that could give Clary a safe normal life … but she was never normal was she? The only one she sees is you. Clary loves you, then and now, whether she knows it or not."

"But how can she love me now? Still?"

"I believe she does. How, I have no idea. It'll take shear insanity - or bravery - for someone to love you."

He knew that Alec meant that as a joke but he answered anyway. He faked a smile.

"Clary isn't your average girl, is she?" Jace sighed, thinking of that fiery redhead he loved so much.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know. I need to clear my head a bit. Think what those notes meant. I'll be back before midnight."

He decided to maybe find a pub to have a drink. Or two. Or three. Then he would sit around and reflect on his miserable life before walking around London, killing a demon or two.

He was about to turn and leave when Alec called his name again.

"Yes?" Jace said. He could hear the annoyance lacing his tone.

"Do you regret it? Loving Clary?" he asked, his tone stating that he was merely curious.

"Never. She saved me when I didn't even know I needed saving. But that question is more effective directed to Clary."

And with that, Jace walked away.

Before Alec could stop himself, he found himself calling Jace's name, a question bubbling to his lips and he blurted it out.

"Do you regret it? Loving Clary?"

It was probably one of the most stupid questions ever asked known to mankind. Alec fought the urge to facepalm himself on the forehead.

Immediately, Jace answered without hesitation. "Never. She saved me when I didn't even know I needed saving." Jace said, a small smile lingering on his lips. "But that question is more effective directed to Clary."

Jace spun on his heel and started walking away without a second glance. Alec knew he wouldn't be pondering over the notes. He would probably get wasted and try to get himself killed by picking a fight with some demons or vampires.

He knew there was a reason Jace was acting like this. It was quite simple really.

Seeing his parabatai walk away, Alec knew only one person could convince Jace Clary loved him. And he hadn't had steel, concrete reassurance from this person for a long, long time.

And that was Clary herself.

"Some of this don't even make sense!" Isabelle groaned. Clary watched from one of the couches as Isabelle sifted and tried to sort the notes out on the coffee table.

The stack for 'gibberish crap' was growing while the stacks for reports, spells and list of names remained with three or four notes and papers each.

"This is impossible," Isabelle said, placing another paper on the 'gibberish crap' pile. Simon looked as lost as Isabelle, looking at most of the papers with wide eyes. "Si you're not really helping."

"Well excuse me I haven't memorized Latin in Demon Hunters Pro or know the proper differences between a pentagram and a freaking crop circle! I'm not Harry Potter." Simon said exasperatedly, shoving a paper at Isabelle for her to read.

She took one look at it before going back to her stack. "That's ancient Greek. Not Latin." she murmured. Simon groaned.

Clary had tried to help but only a few - like the notes she had read back at the house and some stuff that made no sense - were in English. The others were in Greek and Latin. Clary couldn't understand the pentagrams. Apparently a certain pentagram could be read by a trained eye or a warlock to determine what creature was kept in the pentagrams.

"Pentagrams can be read, Clary. Not all of them are exactly alike. Bigger, stronger creatures require bigger, stronger more complicated pentagrams." Isabelle had said. "Luckily, Hodge, my old tutor, was decent enough to teach me how to read pentagrams to a certain amatuer level." she had then continued proudly. Though, under the layer of proud, Clary thought she heard just the tinge of sadness in her voice.

"Clary, why don't you help Alec with all those documents and journals we found. You could find more than him. You knew her better." Isabelle said now, smacking Simon on the hand lightly as he pretended to try and rip a paper apart in frustration.

"Okay," Clary said, getting up. Alec was seated at the long dining table with Colette, looking through several documents they had found under her mother's bed. Most of them were her birth certificates, passports, citizen documents and IDs. The others were small little leather journals that Clary had seen her mother writing in oh so often.

She had never actually read one. She expected they were private like diaries so she hadn't tried to pry.

"Anything I can do?" Clary said as she walked into the dining area.

Colette looked up, a smile lighting her face. " _Oui_. All of these -" she gestured to her stack of journals and documents "- can be yours."

"What are you going to do?" Alec said.

"Sleep. Read a book maybe." Colette said, stretching like a cat.

Alec glared at her intensely. Colette huffed. "Fine. I'll go help Isabelle."

"Have you gone through everything?" Clary asked, sitting across Alec.

"No. I've only read one journal. There's a lot to read. I don't understand half of what she was talking about in that book." Alec muttered, pushing Colette's pile over to her.

Clary nimbly picked one of the five journals and opened to the front page.

The first entry dated back six months ago. Clary reached over for another book. This one's first entry dated back to a year ago.

"Alec, can you check all the journals and see the dates for the first entries?" Clary murmured.

"Uh … yeah." Alec said, sounding distracted from the matter at hand. He continued looking at the pile of documents in his hands blankly.

"Alec." Clary said. He didn't look up. "Alec." she said a little louder, nudging his hand with a journal. He looked up, startled.

"What?"

"I asked if you could check the journals and - Alec?" Clary snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.

"What? Oh. Sorry. Continue." he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Clary looked at him suspiciously for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Grand." Alec muttered though it sounded sarcastic. His look told Clary that further breach on the topic of his well being - mentally and physically - would not be welcome.

"Okay … can you please just look through the journals and see the dates of the first entry?" Clary said, picking up another one. This one's entry dated back to four months ago.

"This one was two months ago, probably the last one she wrote in." Alec said. "I have one that is about nine months ago."

Clary picked up the last one. It was blank.

"The one that dated furthest back is about a year ago." Clary muttered.

Alec stiffened. "A year?"

"Yeah. Give or take a few months."

Alec was quiet for a long time, reading one of the journals.

"Clary ..." Alec said cautiously. Clary looked up silently. Alec seemed to consider his words carefully. "Would you believe me if I said your mom is - was involved?"

Clary sighed. "Yes."

"But you have to look at the - wait. What? Did you just say yes?"

"Yes. And yes." Clary sighed. "There's too much evidence for me to deny it. But I don't think she was involved with those … _experiments_. She could never do something like that. _All I know was that she kept me safe. That's all. She never hurt me_."

As painful as it was to admit, Clary couldn't just _deny_ facts.

Alec looked at her, studying her for a moment.

"What is it?" she asked, not comfortable under his stare.

"You've changed a lot. Different than the old Clary." he said.

"Good or bad change?"

"Both. The old Clary would've ignored every fact, proof and truth and stood by the people she loved and trusted. Even if they were guilty." Alec said. Clary then heard him mutter something to himself, so soft she only caught some words. " _But that made him … you… the end_."

They both lapsed into silence, Clary pondering over his words. She couldn't decide of his words should have hurtful. Had he been calling her unfaithful or logical, not to blinded by her feelings?

Suddenly, Clary remembered Jace's outburst back at the house.

How he had reacted. There was a spark - an almost literal burning in his eyes - as he had stormed out. She remembered the ball in her throat at his reaction, that unfamiliar feeling that rose deep inside of her when Jace had looked so tortured.

It was a quiet blooming of emotions and feelings - sadness, her heart lurching in her chest, the feeling like she couldn't breathe.

She only remembered one time when she had felt that.

The dream that she had of a fair haired man and a beautiful blond boy. The dream where the man had drove a sword into the boy who had fallen to his knees the moment the sword was drawn back.

She remembered what she screamed and how much it had meant. But why had it meant so much?

That one word that had ripped its way out of her throat. The word that haunted so many dreams:

 _Jace._

The world had taken on a funny shine for Jace - spectrums of light appearing where they shouldn't be.

For example, the wooden bar he was leaning on had taken on a slight shiny prism of colors. Jace blinked once and the prism of colors disappeared.

He couldn't be drunk … could he?

This was only his … first bottle of scotch? He usually made it to his third bottle before he started seeing double. Fifth before he started doing really stupid drunk things.

Jace looked around at the not-so-fancy bar that he ended up in.

He had at least walked around London for a couple of hours under a glamour - he didn't want anyone to recognize him - rethinking everything about his miserable yet blessed life. Then he had thought about the words on those papers they had found in the house.

Once again, him and Clary were probably caught in another apocalyptic plan for world domination or something. In his slightly intoxicated state, that could have been either sickly funny or horrific.

After walking aimlessly for a few hours, he had tried to follow a trail of Drevak demons though his search had ended in a dead trail. But at the dead end, he had found some slime and ichor trails left by other demons. He had hunted them. The demon hunting had taken up about two hours of his time. After that, he had plopped himself down at this empty bar and had begun trying to kill his sorrows in alcohol.

"Alone?" a throaty, purring voice beside him asked. Jace turned to look - nothing drunk about the gesture - and saw a scantily dressed woman - probably 20 to 25 - in a sleeveless black lace dress. "Anyone to accompany you, Blondie?"

Jace was mildly annoyed. His glamour of a bald forty year old guy must have slipped, revealing his true self. The girl whose eyes were hooded was twirling her hair as she bit her lip in what Jace guessed should have been in a seductive way but only managed to make her look drowsy and _extremely_ unattractive.

Jace ignored her, taking out some money and putting it on the counter, preparing to leave. The bartender took the money and went out the back, just leaving Jace and the woman.

The woman's hand latched onto Jace's arm as he turned away. Automatically, Jace's hand went to his belt, clutching the hilt of a seraph blade. A chill ran up the arm she was holding.

"Where you going? I'm lonely." she crooned, her hand tight on Jace's arm. He shrugged her off, trying to be gentle. He turned to face her, smiling coldly. His hand loosened on the blade's hilt.

"And you're old enough to be my mother. So I'll pass on the chance of your company."

The woman's face twisted into a feral snarl. She lunged at Jace who managed to yank a dagger free from it's sheath. She tried to avoid the dagger but the dagger nicked her thigh, dark red blood flowing. A low hiss escaped her lips. Jace's vision wavered again and he tried to clear it.

He felt his legs being swiped out from under him and Jace crashed to the ground, his jaw knocking against the hardwood floor and his dagger slipped out of his fingers. "Never, _ever_ call a woman old, little boy." she growled from her perch on his shoulders. Jace's vision shot into focus again and he flung the woman off him.

Grabbing a knife made of blessed metal, he aimed the knife to her neck. "And never call me little boy." Jace growled. There was a sizzle of flesh as the knife was pressed against her flesh. She jerked underneath Jace in pain though her face didn't show it. "Vampire?" he guessed. "Don't you know it's against the Law to attack a Shadowhunter?"

She grinned at Jace, showing her two twin needle sharp fangs. But those weren't the only sharp things in her mouth. All her teeth were sharp though only her incisors were needle sharp. The rest looked like they had been filed to extreme, snappy sharpness.

"Vampire? Hardly. And I couldn't care less about your petty little Laws, little Shadowhunter boy." she spat.

"What are you?" Jace pressed the knife harder into her neck, drawing blood. She grinned.

"Something you could never imagine, Jace Herondale."

"What _are_ you?" Jace demanded. It didn't bug him that she knew his name. Most of Downworld knew him through the Wars.

"Something great is happening, little Nephilim boy. Valentine's son was just the beginning." she growled darkly, more blood running down her neck.

"What do you mean?" Jace growled. The mention of Sebastian was taboo for Jace and to be told that something darker than Sebastian was about to come chilled Jace to the bone.

" _Keep your loved ones close, boy. Or you'll lose more than you could ever think possible._ " Her hand flew up and seized Jace's hand. Before Jace could stop her, she grabbed his hand tightly - leaving deep crescent shaped marks that bled on his hand - and pushed his hand down on neck and the knife sunk deeply into her neck, effectively killing her.

Jace wrenched himself off her in one fluid movement and watched as her body began to dry up like a piece of meat under intense sun and finally going up in flames until nothing was left of her except minor scorch marks on the hardwood floor.

Was she a demon? The way she burst up in flames reminded him of how Gnackis demons died. But Gnakis couldn't shapeshift. They stayed how they looked. Ugly, brownish and slimy.

Maybe a new breed of demons? One no one had encountered before?

Suddenly, Jace felt all too sober. Grabbing his dagger which was halfway across the room, Jace left the bar, heading back towards the house.

He pushed too long hair out of his eyes as he hunched in the cold weather. He took out his stele and quickly drew a much needed energy rune on his arm.

For a while, Jace walked in utter silence, nobody on the streets.

On the other side of the street, a car alarm went off. There was a crash from behind him and a hand went flying to a weapon in his belt. Nothing was behind him but he still kept a steady grip on the hilt of the blade he was holding.

There was a low growl in front of him and Jace whipped out the seraph blade he had been clutching.

Two Fire demons stood in front of him, eyeing him with careful, loathing eyes.

Fire demons were demons that stood on two long legs that were encrusted in pitch and ash. Fire always demons stood hunched but even hunched they were at least two heads taller than Jace. Both had two long, skinny arm that hung to their knees, their arms claws and lit with demonic fire.

" _Nephilim_ ," one hissed, making a soft chittering noise.

" _Kill him_ ," the other one said.

Holding his seraph blade lazily though his posture was prepared for battle, Jace sighed. "Look, I know I'm famous and all but can we put the autograph signing for tomorrow? I'll even sign it in my own blood if it makes you guys happy."

" _We do not desire blood on paper … we want blood in our mouths._ " the bigger of the two hissed.

"Thought so." Jace smiled. " _Michael,_ " The angel blade flared to life.

Time slowed down to nothing as Jace prepared himself. He was extremely aware of his surroundings through sight, hearing and feeling. Everything sprang into awareness, even the smallest sensations intensified.

He lunged forward, sticking the blade into the smaller of the two. It hissed trying to jerk away from the blade. From his peripheral, Jace saw the other Fire demon lunging at him. With ease, he pulled the blade out of the smaller demon - ichor spraying from the wound - and managed to sever one of the bigger demon's legs.

He flung himself over the smaller demon, landing with blithe grace before plunging the seraph blade deep inside its head, stabbing the brain. The Fire demon struggled, jerking wildly. Jace twisted the blade and the Fire demon crumpled to the ground, dead, disappearing in a violent burst of ashes.

Seeing its fallen partner, the bigger demon growled before throwing itself at Jace. With a graceful step, Jace avoided the demon which was barreling at him. He noticed that the demon's leg was slowly regrowing, molten fire spewing out from the wound, hardening to make a new leg.

"No need to throw yourself at me." Jace said. The demon growled but it was a satisfied growl, one of contentment.

A sharp pain in his side brought everything into a deeper clearer focus than it already was. He pressed a hand to his side, hissing as he made contact with a cut in his side, left by one of the demons. He noticed that one side of his jacket was hanging in shreds.

He glared at the gloating demon, Jace's lip curling. "That. Was. My. Favorite. Jacket." he snarled as he freed another seraph blade. He brandished it before he lunged for the demon, viciously stabbing at the side of its head with one seraph blade. It jerked, swiping at Jace with long, sharp fingers. Jace barely avoided the long claws, ducking under them as they swiped at where his head once was.

Swiftly and cleanly, he brought up his second blade, naming it " _Cassiel_ ," before decapitating the demon. The head flew off, a geyser of ichor spewing from its neck, a bit splashing onto Jace's face and clothes. The head bounced a few times on the road before bursting into a fountain of ash. The body had disappeared too.

Not even bothering for a healing rune, Jace sprinted flat out back towards the house.

"Where is he?" Alec growled, pacing.

Clary watched him from the loveseat, occasionally averting her gaze to the small flickering fire in the fireplace. Jace still hadn't returned even though it was nearly midnight.

For the past hour, Alec and Isabelle had debated whether to search for Jace, practically pulling their hair out.

She looked at the fire again, only looking back at the Lightwoods when her eyes had begun to water for staring too long.

"I'm going to go look for him," Isabelle said, slipping a leather jacket over her shirt.

"So you want me to come with you?" Simon said, standing up.

"I'm fine." Isabelle said, waving his offer away. The clock hanging on the wall read 11.59 pm. Where was he?

"I hope he hasn't gotten drunk," Colette sighed, her finger running along the spines of the books in the bookshelf.

Isabelle rolled her eyes before she flung the door open and screamed.

Jace leaned against the doorway, looking tired yet urgent. He was dirty, parts of his face and hair covered in sticky looking black liquid. His jacket was torn in places, hanging in tatters in one side. His hair lank down the sides of his face, stuck his face with sweat. On his jaw, there was a blossom of black and blue decorating the skin there.

"Jace," Isabelle squeaked before throwing herself at Jace, hugging him tightly. "What happened?"

Jace didn't return the hug. Instead, he looked like he was in pain.

In unison, Alec and Clary cried "Isabelle, stop!".

"He's in pain," Alec said, walking up to his parabatai. Isabelle pulled away immediately, looking at Jace in horror.

"What happened?" Isabelle breathed, horrified. Clary went over for a closer look.

Blood had soaked into Jace's shirt, making a darker patch among the black shirt.

Jace pushed past Isabelle, holding his injured side as he walked towards one of the chairs, collapsing into it with a groan.

"The bleeding stopped a while ago, if it's the furniture that you're worried about." Jace said, craning his head to a side to look at Isabelle. He took out his stele from one of his innumerable pockets and started to lift his shirt.

Clary had moved closer to look, trying to avoid Colette who was trying to 'help' Jace, flitting here and there. She now darted into the kitchen to get Jace a cup of water.

Alec knelt in front of Jace, smacking his hand aside and grabbing Jace's stele.

"Have you been drinking?" Alec asked, leaning up to sniff.

"No … maybe a little."

"A little bit my ass." Alec muttered.

Gently, Alec lifted Jace's shirt up, revealing a golden, flat and sculpted stomach, a strip of drying, sticky blood on his right side. A few long red gashes ran from the middle of his upper stomach to his side horizontally, still oozing some blood. Around, the gashes were lined with grayish powder that looked like ash.

Alec pressed the stele to Jace's pelvis, drawing a complicated rune that said 'heal' to her eyes. She blinked once, trying to clear her head.

"Enjoying the show?" Jace said amusedly, watching Clary with hooded eyes. She looked away, blushing as she did.

"Who did this to you, Jace?" Alec said, handing Jace back his stele.

"Demon. Fire demon, to be exact." Jace said, groaning.

"That explains the ash," Alec muttered. Collette returned with a glass of cool water. Jace accepted it openly, holding it in one hand.

"That's the least of our problems." Jace muttered, sitting up straight. "I was in a bar and this woman attacked me."

Isabelle looked at Jace in shock, her eyes wide.

Jace groaned. "Not like that! Anyway, she attacked me. Literally. With fangs and claws. At first I thought she was a vampire … I used a blade made of blessed metal. It burned her but she had a full mouth of sharp teeth instead of just the two. So not a vampire. She started saying that she was 'something you could never imagine' and that ' Valentine's son was just the beginning'"

Isabelle flinched at the words.

"Then she killed herself." Jace said in defeat. "And disappeared like a Gnackis demon."

"I don't know how can anything be worse than what Sebastian did." Isabelle said, looking stricken.

"We should tell mom about this." Alec muttered. "Maybe even the Clave."

"We can't." Jace growled. "Tell Maryse if you want to but let her decide if we should tell the Clave."

Alec immediately started scribbling on a piece of paper, muttering to himself.

The paper flared up, disappearing. Alec turned on Jace, glaring.

"Jace Herondale you gave me a heart attack what is wrong with you I have half a mind to slap you right now do you know how frantic I've been you could have been dead you inconsiderate moron and I didn't know!" Alec said, not stopping to catch his breath.

"I told I would be back before midnight. I was back at 11.59. I am sure of it." Jace said, grinning. Alec gritted his teeth, looking pissed yet relieved at the same time.

"Well, I'm going to bed." Clary announced, stretching.

"Goodnight," Isabelle murmured.

Jace smiled, winking at her in a way that made her blush.

She slowly made her way up the stairs, emotional stress and physical exhaustion catching up with her.

The carpet muted the sound of her footsteps, the only sounds audible was Jace and Alec's banter.

"Clary?"

Clary spun around, surprised to see Colette running towards her, her blond hair bouncing as she jogged towards Clary. Clary just couldn't help the slight pang of jealousy by looking at Colette.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked, her voice suspiciously gentle and subtle. Before Clary could say yes, Colette looped her arm through Clary's, walking with her down the hallway.

"So, how's coming back from the dead and all?" Colette asked.

Clary looked taken aback, not sure how to answer the question.

"Um ..."

"You know what? Let me skip to the part where I get straight to the point."

Without a sound, Clary found herself pinned against the wall, Colette an inch from her face, her face hostile and her eyes burning. Pain shot through her head, black spots dancing across her vision. Colette had her arm to Clary's neck painfully as she glared at her.

" _I want you to listen very, very closely, little red. Stay. Away. From. Jace. You destroyed him once and I don't want you anywhere near hurting Jace again._ "

The words were hushed, a deadly whisper that succeeded by sending chills down Clary's spine. Clary clenched her fists.

With all her strength, she shoved Colette off, rubbing her neck. Colette staggered back, looking surprised.

"Excuse me?" Clary hissed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Stay away from Jace and stop cuddling up to him like some bitch."

"I do _not_ cuddle up to Jace. He's hardly anything more than a friend."

Colette scoffed, taking a step forward, reminding Clary of a lioness circling her prey.

"That's what you think you're doing. Stay away from Jace. And if you tell anyone about this, I'll hang your head from my doorknob."

Colette spun around and walked away quickly, leaving Clary staring after her.

As Colette turned the corner, Clary continued walking back to her room, her hand still rubbing her neck.

She locked her room door behind her and stripped to her undergarments. She threw on a loose white tank top and a pair of light blue cotton shorts. She brushed her teeth, running a wet hand through her mess of hair, willing the stress lines on her face away.

Clary crawled into bed, feeling feeble and vulnerable as she crashed into her cool sheets. She buried her head into her pillow. There could have been no better feeling.

She lied on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her mind kept replaying Colette's words.

" _Stay. Away. From. Jace. You destroyed him once and I don't want you anywhere near hurting Jace again._ "

Her mind spun. It was obvious that Colette liked Jace but wasn't this taking a bit too far?

A chill went down her spine as she remembered the hostile look in her eyes. Clary wanted to call Colette possessive but it seemed like this went far beyond the boundaries of possessiveness.

Exhaustion weighed her eyelids down but sleep remained constantly out of her reach like it was smoke. As soon as Clary embraced it, it slipped out of her grasp.

She rolled so she was now lying on her side, staring at the dark corner of her room.

Her mind remained active, replaying today's event like a broken record.

Finding the notes … those horrible notes. Jace's reaction had been the one that baffled her the most.

Everytime she thought of what happened to Jace, Colette's words popped into her head.

Minutes or hours, the time was blurred to her as her, mind went wild.

Her eyelids felt unbearably heavy and Clary felt as if she had finally captured sleep in her grasp. She closed her eyes, the darkness and sleep rushing towards her like a freight train, ready to knock her out, drifting.

Light stabbed into her eyelids and Clary opened them, squinting.

A dark, faceless figure slipped through her door, bright lights pouring through the door. Clary made it as the body of a woman. The door closed behind the figure with Before Clary could scream or throw a lamp at her, the room lights switched on, burning Clary's eyes.

Colette - of all people (a murderer would've been less agonizing to Clary) - stood in her room, her face apologetic.

"What do you want?" Clary spit, the words harsher than intended.

"Look, I know I shouldn't have said or done that to you. I'm sorry." she said, approaching her bed.

Clary propped herself up so she was sitting. She eyed Colette carefully, as if the girl was a venomous snake.

"Did I wake you up?" Colette asked, her voice apologetic. And suspicious.

 _Yes, well, almost._

"No. I wasn't a asleep yet." Clary said, trying to keep her tone normal.

"Oh, good. It would've been terribly bad if you had continued sleeping." Colette said, laughing a breathy laugh.

"Why?"

Colette sat on the bed which dipped slightly with her weight.

"Because," Colette said in a 'duh' tone. "I wouldn't be able to hear you scream."

A slender but strong hand was clapped over her mouth, muffling Clary's protests and swears. She tried to kick Colette away as she glared at her.

The tip of something cold was positioned at her stomach, making Clary freeze.

"Shh, little red." Colette crooned, lightly dragging the tip of what could only be a blade across her stomach. Clary tried screaming but, as expected, it was muffled. She tried kicking but Colette managed to evade her. "Would you stop being a pretentious little attention for once?!" Colette hissed, applying more pressure to the blade.

Clary glared at Colette, not an ounce of fear in her. Only a burning hatred.

"Aren't you scared? You're an idiot if you're not." Colette hissed.

"I. Never. Liked. You." Colette's words sounded distant and hollow, like she was speaking in a tunnel.

A slicing pain split Clary apart as she plunged the blade into Clary.

 **A/N - Mwhahahaha! Another cliffhanger for my lovely readers! Sorry about that :D Review if you like.**


	19. Mistress of Illusions

**Chapter 18 - Mistress of Illusions**

With one of the journals on his lap, Jace consulted an old version of the Codex.

He brushed his long hair aside as he read what Keayla Ashworth had written in these books. Some of the contents were gibberish mundane crap Jace didn't understand.

Every so often, he would look at the Codex, using it as a dictionary if he found any term in the journals he didn't understand, hoping it was an ancient term in the Codex.

This was the Codex that was given to Clary by Tessa. Jocelyn had given it to Jace for safekeeping after Clary had supposedly died.

Supposedly.

That word ran through Jace's head like a broken record.

As much as Jace was ecstatic and grateful that Clary was alive, he was also unbelievably furious. All he wanted to do was find who did this to Clary and chop them up into a million unidentifiable pieces that could double for kibble.

Jace sighed, picking up another journal and reading the words within it:

 _I'm thrilled. Clary and I went dress shopping today. She bought this adorable one strap electric blue dress that ended right at the end of her knees. What she doesn't know is, I have set her up with Evangelyn Fine's son! I decided that she needs to get out there and live a little._

 _Evangelyn more than agreed, thrilled actually. I picked out this cute but expensive restaurant. I haven't seen Evie in ages and I guess, for Clary, it's worth it to reawaken the old ghosts._

Jace's hand fisted at the thought of Clary dating another boy. _Now he was pissed. BEYOND PISSED._

Jace was never one for being jealous but this time, it was different. Clary didn't remember him - didn't love him.

There was the slight creak of the door and a long shadow spilling through the slightly open door. Jace looked up, pushing long hair out of his eyes.

"Alec?" Jace said. There couldn't be anyone else. Jace could always tell when it was his _parabatai_.

"Yeah." Alec said almost sheepishly as he stepped into the room, rubbing his neck with one hand. He shut the door behind him before walking towards Jace's bed. He threw himself onto the bed, groaning as he shut his eyes.

As usual, Alex was wearing a holey shirt and a pair of sweats to bed while Jace preferred the sweats-without-a-shirt look or the sexy-non holey-shirt-and-sweats look unlike Alec who seemed to prefer to look like a homeless person when he went to sleep.

"Please tell me you're not here for a sleepover." Jace groaned. Alec opened his eyes and glared at Jace.

"No." he said, sitting up. "I came to check on you, to see if you were asleep yet. Or now, rather, why you aren't asleep."

"Why aren't _you_ asleep?"

"Because I sense a disturbance in the Force," Alec said. Jace knew his parabatai was trying to be sarcastic but he didn't understand what the heck Alec was trying to say.

"Never mind." Alec muttered, rolling his eyes. "I was up going through the notes and trying to decipher the pentagrams."

"Since when do you read pentagrams? We never took up Hodge's offer to learn."

"Magnus taught me." Alec said simply.

If only all of us had a warlock boyfriend to teach us pentagrams, Jace thought.

Alec picked up the journal Jace was reading just now, his eyes scanning over the words.

"There's nothing useful in those books. I've been going through them for hours." Jace muttered, throwing his head against the pillow. Taking slow, deep breaths, Jace tried to find sleep.

"Actually," Alec said slowly. "There may be something here that can help us."

Jace shot up straight, peering over Alec's shoulder.

"What?" Jace said, scanning the page for anything he could have missed.

"This name … Evangelyn Fine … she sounds so familiar." Alec murmured.

"How so?"

"I think Magnus mentioned her a few times … but I can't remember who or what is she."

"Well, that's creepy. How could Magnus know some mundane that lives all the way in London?" Jace said. "It says here that Clary went on a date with her son..." Jace said, trying to keep the anger and spite at bay.

"I guess we could ask her. And maybe Izzy too. She could know. I'll just give Magnus a call to -" Alec said, shrugging, about to get up.

"No. Magnus could start questioning and get curious. All it needs is one locator spell and he's found us." Jace said.

Alec shrugged him of. "One, I'm not your bitch so I won't do _everything_ you say. Two, I was just going to call Magnus and talk. Like, icky gooey love talk."

He turned to look at Jace who was very quiet. "You're jealous, aren't you? Of Evangelyn's son?" he said, smiling broadly.

"What? No!" Jace said, scrunching his eyebrows together. "In my dictionary, people get jealous of me. Not the other way around." he said, trying to sound unfazed.

"Ugh, go to sleep then, you arrogant baby!" Alec said, shoving Jace's head playfully.

Jace rolled his eyes before kicking Alec off his bed. "Go have phone sex with your boyfriend. Shoo."

Alec blushed as he shut the door and Jace threw his head onto the pillow.

At least they had a lead now.

Clary lunged out of bed, her hands fisting in her sheets, her breathing ragged.

 _It was only a dream. Relax_ , Clary told herself repeatedly. Colette didn't really kill her. She was still alive.

But her heart wouldn't obey. It slammed painfully in her chest as she tried to get a grip on reality. Involuntarily, she clutched at her stomach as she tried to stop her gasping.

She leaned her head against the headboard, closing her eyes as she tried to slow her heart.

"Wake up!" a voice she recognized as Alec's said from outside her door.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I'm up!" she shouted when Alec didn't stop banging on her door. She forced herself out of bed, groaning when her muscles flexed.

She brushed her teeth and took a cold bath before throwing on a light blue tank top and grey cotton shorts. Looking in the mirror, she saw that her eyes were haunted and tired. When she walked out the door, Isabelle was shuffling down the stairs, her hair in a messy bun.

She followed the other girl down the stairs, shivering in the cold air.

"Why did you wake me up so early?" Clary muttered when she saw Alec in the dining room. He sat at the round table, looking tired yet excited at the same time. Outside, the sky was barely bright. Sure, she had already been up but Alec better had a good reason for pulling her out of bed.

"We've got some stuff to sift through today. Must as well start early." Alec said, shrugging.

Peering into the kitchen, Clary's eyeballs nearly dropped out of their sockets when she saw Jace and Simon cooking, the two boys arguing over a recipe as they cooked.

"It's an _omelette_ , Simon. Not some souffle we're attempting!" Jace groaned, rolling his eyes.

"How would you know? You've been a Shadowhunter your whole life! I know mundane cooking at least! I doubt you've ever even touched a pan in your life!" Simon said.

"I'll have you know that when Maryse and Robert were in Idris for Clave meetings when I was young, I was the one that cooked for Alec, myself and Isabelle because neither of them can cook." Jace said smugly.

"Hey!" Alec growled while Isabelle threw a book at Jace. He caught it in mid air before putting it on the kitchen counter, his eyes never leaving Simon.

"Fine! We won't use _that_ much butter." Simon muttered.

Jace grinned before spotting Clary. He smiled wider, silently calling her over.

"I would ask you to help but you can't even fry an egg so I'll just ask you to watch and learn." Jace said, cracking an egg into a bowl.

"Like you're - wait. How did you know I don't know how to cook?" Clary looked at Jace, arching an eyebrow.

Jace stiffened, his expression going slightly haunted. "You mentioned it to me once … a long time ago. But you wouldn't remember." Jace muttered, sighing.

"Oh." Clary murmured.

"Morning, everyone!"

Clary froze at her voice, her heart rate picking up immediately. Colette brushed by her, shooting her a glance that said: remember what I said last night. Feeling uncomfortable, she slipped out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

Breakfast wasn't a let down. Simon and Jace turned out to be pretty good cooks though Jace claimed that he had done 80% of the cooking. The bread was slightly over toasted to where the edges were completely black while the rest of the bread was light brown.

"Izzy, do you know anyone by the name of Evangelyn Fine?" Alec said as he buttered a slice of toast.

Clary's perked up at the name.

"No … why?" Isabelle said slowly.

"We found something in the journals that thought could have helped."

"I know a Daniel Fine, if it helps." Clary said. Jace looked at her sharply, her eyes narrowing.

"How do you know Daniel Fine?" Alec asked, his eyes expectant.

Clary blushed when she remembered how she had met Daniel. "Um … I sort of went on a date with him a few months back. It didn't work out at all. He was … a little too eccentric." Clary said, biting her lip. She reminded the eighteen year old boy who had screamed at the waiting staff in the restaurant they had gone to because his soup wasn't warm enough. The boy who had found a crack in the wall so interesting.

"I think that the Fine we're looking for." Alec muttered.

"Wait … what about Fine? I'm clueless." Isabelle said, waving her spoon.

"We found the name Evangelyn Fine in one of the journals. It said that Clary … went out with her son once. And Alec is very sure that Evangelyn is probably a Downworlder." Jace said, tapping his glass of water with a fingernail. He had a slight scowl on his face.

"So you're saying that Daniel isn't human?" Clary said calmly.

"You don't seem surprised." Jace noted, shoving some eggs into his mouth.

"Well, Daniel wasn't _exactly_ … um … how do I put this?" she muttered.

"Normal?" Alec offered.

"Mentally correct?" Isabelle said, pursing her lips.

"He had a third arm?" Simon said, causing everyone to look at him questioningly. "What?! It could be possible!"

"I'm just not surprised he's not human." Clary said, suddenly very aware of Colette was staring intently at her.

"Let's find out, shall we? Call him." Jace suggested, handing her his phone.

"But what if he _is_ human?" Clary said, holding Jace's phone doubtfully. They were now gathered around the coffee table; Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Simon were pressuring her to call Daniel so they could meet up and have a little _chat_.

Jace sighed. "If he's human then we're screwed and it's back to square one. If he's not, he could enlighten us on his mother."

"You know," Colette said, speaking up for once. "Clary could be right."

Jace and Isabelle looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Well, most Downworlders are sterile - warlocks, vampires and fae, at least - and this Daniel could just be another mundane raised by a Downworlder." she said casually, like she was talking about the fabric of a piece of clothing and the color.

"That's a chance we're going to have to take. What have we got to lose? Call him." Alec said firmly. Clary sighed, knowing that there was no real point in arguing.

She quickly dialed Daniel's number and held the phone to her ear. The phone rang six times before he picked up.

"Hello?" Clary froze. The voice didn't belong to Daniel. It was a woman.

"Hi. Can I um … speak to Daniel?" Clary said, biting her lip.

"Daniel? Who?" the voice asked, incredulous. "And how did you get this number anyways?" she spoke in a breathy British accent.

"Daniel Fine. And he gave this number to me." Clary said. Who was the woman on the other side of the line?

"Daniel Fine, you say? Who is this?"

"It's Clary. Clary Ashworth." Clary said slowly, wondering if it was smart to tell her name to the stranger.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

"Clary? Sorry, I didn't recognize your voice. Why don't you come over? I haven't seen you in a while. It would be nice to catch up. I insist." the woman said as she laughed, sounding surprised.

"Sorry, who is this?"

"This is Daniel's mother. You can call me Evie. Do you remember our address?"

"No."

Evie laughed from the other side and told Clary to write down the house address. Clary scrambled to find a piece of paper and a pen. Someone placed the two items in her hand. She started scribbling the number down as fast as she could as Evie said it without stopping for a breath.

"Should I come over at lunch? Twelve in the afternoon?" Clary said, flexing her cramped wrist.

"Sure. See you then, Clara." she said before hanging up. Clary stared at the phone. Clara?

"What'd she say?" Isabelle said the moment Clary put the phone down on the table.

"It was a really weird conversation." Clary said. "At first it was like she didn't even know who Daniel was. She said her name was Evie."

"Short for Evangeline." Simon muttered.

"And I'm going to meet her at noon."

"Well, we - Alec, Isabelle, Simon, Colette and myself - can't go in full view for Evie to see." Jace said. "I'm pretty sure she won't wait and finish her cup of tea if she sees a bunch of armed Shadowhunters standing in her lawn. She'll flee and that's gonna throws us back to square negative four. We aren't exactly going to her house for donations though people tend to react the same way to both."

"I guess we can stay out of sight while Clary meets her. We'll just come into the picture later," Colette sighed, picking at her fingernails. Clary was very aware of the occasional glances Colette gave her. She fought back a shiver when she thought of her dream.

"I'm going to go back to sleep then. Wake me up an hour before we leave." Isabelle declared, already moving towards the stairs.

There was about four and a half hours more to kill before noon. Clary watched as everyone dispersed to do their on things.

Alec and Jace went back to the notes and journals and Colette disappeared upstairs.

Cautiously, Clary approached Alec and Jace; they were passing one of the journals back and forth, taking turns to look at it.

"Hey, do you guys have a Codex I can borrow?"

Jace and Alec looked up, surprised. "How did you know about a Codex?" Jace asked.

"Isabelle said it was like a bible for Shadowhunters or something." Clary said. She had never been raised religiously and was now quite curious to read the Codex.

"It's not a Shadowhunter bible. Look at it more as a … manual or a guide to Shadowhunter life. How to handle a werewolf going into labor, how faeries work, how to change vampire saliva and blood into a surefire cancer cure though that particular chapter was abolished from the New Codex additions -"

"Wait - what? A cancer cure?"

"Yep. It has been around for a _long_ time. But mundanes don't know about it or can't get it legally because Shadowhunters and mundane leaders have an … agreement or deal about this. It was created a hundred years ago. Cancer is a multi billion dollar business for mundanes and it breaks the Accords to take blood or saliva from a vampire. Also, the cure could and usually can lead to instant vampirization if you inject the wrong amount into a mundane because of the altercations to the blood. But not many Shadowhunters know about this and most of the mundane population has forgotten. The chapter was deemed too dangerous." Jace explained.

"And the last thing the world leaders need is millions of people overdosing on vampire blood and saliva and turning into blood sucking creatures. Vampire blood can be addictive if you don't have a strong resistance." Alec muttered, grimacing.

"That's so … messed up." Clary said.

Alec and Jace murmured agreements.

"Here," Jace said, handing her a fat hardcover book that weighed at least a few kilograms. "That's one of the ancient ones. Be careful with it." Jace cautioned.

"I doubt you have one that comes in pocket size?" Clary said, looking at the fat book in her hands.

Jace grinned. "Sometimes, knowledge is a heavy burden."

"Here."

Cautiously, Clary took the dagger Jace was holding out to her. She weighed it in her hand. It felt comfortable in her grip, like it had been made just for her.

"I don't ..."

"You won't have to use it. It's just a precaution. Now, stick it in your boot." Jace said as he continued to arm himself.

"It's just one person." Clary said, watching Alec slip a blade into his belt.

"We've learnt many times in the past not to underestimate people. Best come prepared." Isabelle said, strapping three seraph blades to her belt.

It was half an hour to noon and they had decided on a plan.

Jace and the rest of the other Shadowhunters were going to stay in the shadows, keeping an eye on her. She was going to take a cab, the others following closely behind.

"Let's go." Jace muttered, slamming the chest of weapons shut. "And whatever you do Clary, don't tell her that you're … mother's … dead. Create a lie, avoid the question. Anything."

Outside, a taxi was waiting idly on the sidewalk. Clary got in and recited Evie's complicated address to the driver. He nodded gruffly before stabbing the gas, the car lurching forward like a bat out of hell.

 _Why do I always get into a taxi that has a death wish or a real speed fetish_? Clary thought, bracing herself as the driver made a sharp turn, threatening to throw her against the window.

Clary took a quick look behind and she couldn't see any sight of Isabelle, Jace, Alec, Colette or Simon.

At the thought of Colette, Clary clutched the fabric of her jacket at the stomach.

The pain had been so _real._ It was hard to believe that it had only been a dream. Unlike normal dreams, where the details would slowly disappear, leaving bits and pieces to a long dream, every single detail was etched into her mind like they had been permanently branded there.

"We're here." the voice of the driver pulled Clary put of of her reverie.

"Oh. Thanks." She handed a few pounds to the driver before getting out, the wind immediately welcoming her.

The address had lead her to a modest looking single storey house with a semi crumbling chimney. The front lawn was bare and looked almost dead, the grass dried up and yellow. A single tree loomed over one side of the house, looking like it was ready to crash into the house at any moment.

There something about the house that Clary found … misplaced. There was a funny tint in the way it looked.

On impulse, Clary let her mind relax and pretended that what in front of her was merely a protective extra layer like a layer of paint being painted over another layer of paint.

To her surprise, the sight before her started to change.

The lawn blossomed to life with unusual looking plants lining the pathway. The house had turned into a grand bungalow with white walls and a classic look. The crumbly wooden fence that surrounded the house turned into thick metal wires that curled artistically. It looked like a piece of art as well as a fence.

Clary stared in shock. What had happened to the single storey terrace?

"What the fu-" Clary whispered to herself, leaving the sentence dangling in the air. She would have to ask Isabelle about this later.

The front door opened and a thin woman that looked about twenty swept out of the house, wearing a flowing dark green evening gown that trailed behind her. Her black hair was piled atop her head, pinned in place by several dozen jeweled clips that were visible from this distance.

"Clara!" the woman squealed as she pushed the metal gates open. Clary suspected that this was Evie.

She enveloped Clary in a hug that threatened to kill.

"It's Clary, actually." she said, not sure if she should return the hug.

"Sorry. I'm not very good at names. Where's your mother, Clary?" Evie said, looking around.

The question put a ball in Clary's throat. "She's … away."

"Hmm … funny. Anyways, so what brings you here?" Evie said, pulling away. This close, Clary could see that she had unusual sapphire blue eyes and white pupils instead of black ones. Her ears were pointed. At the roots of her black hair, Clary could see the slight starting of emerald green tufts.

Definitely not human.

"Um, you invited me over?" Clary said.

 _I'm here because I want to know what do you have to do with me and my mother. And also, why is your son so weird?_

" _Really?_ In that case, why don't you com in. Daniel's in his room. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you again." Evie said, looping her arm through Clary's. She literally towered over Clary, standing at least a head and a half taller than her. If Jace or Alec stood next to Evie, Clary was sure Evie would be taller than both of them and that was saying a lot.

The interior of the house was amazingly confusing in terms of taste. The furniture was a vary of bright colors in floral and feather prints. The walls were covered in wallpaper patterns of peacock feathers. Odd looking ornaments decorated the house.

This place looked like it belonged to a gypsy.

A tall, lanky boy stumbled his way down the stairs, grinning broadly as he saw Clary.

"Clare Bear!" he said.

He looked the same. Long, messy black hair and bright, brilliant blue eyes with wide black pupils and same long limbs - though not as long as his mother's. He had boyish, playful looks and a layer of stubble covering his jaw. Clary cringed. She had never been a fan of stubble - an itchy looking layer of hair that was frankly quite unattractive to Clary's eyes.

"Hi, Daniel."

"Where've you been? I haven't seen you in a while, mate!"

"I've been around." she said, shrugging. She smiled at Daniel who looked like he was approaching for a hug.

"Daniel, can you get us something to drink?" Evie said, waving her hand. Daniel pouted before going into the kitchen. The tall woman led Clary to a maroon and black colored couch with the print of black and white moths. She sat down and patted the seat beside her.

"How have you been, Clary?" she sighed, smiling.

"I've been better." Clary said cautiously. The way Evie was looking at her unsettled her.

Daniel returned with two long glasses, both filled with a yellow liquid that was too … bright and shiny to be any sort of juice.

Evie picked hers up immediately and sipped, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. "Delicious." she sighed, praising her son.

"Where'd your mother go, Clary?" Evie said casually, eyeing her as she took another so of the yellow beverage.

"Uh," Clary racked and searched frantically through her brain for an excuse. She regretted not thinking of that sooner. "She went to visit my aunt - her sister. She's got cancer and um ... can't really walk ..." Clary wanted to facepalm herself. That sounded like the most poorly constructed lie ever.

"What cancer does she have?" Evie continued, putting the glass down.

"Um … bone cancer … I think." Clary said, biting her lip.

"Really? Keayla never mentioned a sister to me." Evie murmured. She looked over Clary's shoulder and frowned. "Daniel, stop playing with the wallpaper." Clary turned around and saw Daniel picking at the wallpaper of peacock feathers, studying it with a scary intent. He rolled his eyes and wandered into the kitchen.

Clary turned back to Evie, sighing. "There's a lot of things she didn't tell."

Evie nodded, looking like she was in deep thought. She looked at Clary's untouched drink. "Take a sip. Go on." Clary looked at it doubtfully but picked it up anyways.

Clary had almost took her first sip when Evie turned to her, smiling hardly.

"Clary, where's your mother, really?"

The glass in Clary's hand shattered. Impulsively, before any of the cold liquid could get on her hand, Clary dropped the glass, letting the remnants crash to the floor. Evie stared at something behind her. Clary turned around in her seat and saw in shock that an arrow had flown through and broken the glass. It was now lodged in the furniture. Clary could see the small marking of runes of the feathers of the arrow. They both stared it at, their eyes wide.

"I hope that wasn't crystal." a regretful voice said from behind them.

Clary spun and saw Jace lounging lazily in one the chairs. He held a seraph blade lightly in one hand, as he looked at Evie intently.

Alec appeared as he swung down and perched lightly on the open windowsill. He had a bow clutched tightly in his hand and a sheath of arrows hanging on his back. His eyes were darting, alert, across the room, his figure tense while Jace looked like it was a day at the spa.

"It was." Evie said through gritted teeth.

"You'll have to forgive my parabatai. He's got a certain repulse for expensive, branded items. Or anything that looks shiny, really." Jace said, making Alec scowl.

"You've got some nerve -"

Before Clary could blink, an arrow shot past her face, narrowly missing her. She leapt out of the chair in surprise, skittering a few steps back.

She hadn't even seen Alec move. Clary looked to see where the arrow had hit and stared in open mouthed horror when she saw the tip of the arrow buried in Daniel's shoulder.

He stumbled back and hit the wall, something falling out of his hand. Clary saw that it was a dagger.

Evie didn't look horrified. She merely flinched.

"That wasn't necessary." she said, her voice hard.

"He was going to kill Clary." Alec said. He looked shocked at Evie's lack of reaction.

"You don't care, do you? Who is he to you really?" Jace said, narrowing his eyes at her. "And you can't lie. You're a faerie." Jace said, getting into a sitting position.

Evie broke into a wide smile. "Looks can be deceiving, Herondale." she said.

Clary looked from Evie to Daniel's crumpled body.

"Trust me." Evie sighed. "I couldn't care less about him." Clary wanted to slap the bitch.

Isabelle and Colette joined them, both of them frowning at the decor.

"And I thought Magnus was bad." Isabelle muttered. Alec glared at her.

"Who. Are. You?" Jace said, cocking his head to a side.

"I don't have to talk to you. But," Evie said, turning to look at Clary. "I will talk to Clary. The rest of you can eavesdrop."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Double standards," he muttered.

"Clary, where is your mother?" Evie persisted.

Clary kept staring at Daniel's crumpled body. Evie looked at him over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.

"Oh for God's sakes." she hissed, waving her hands once. Slowly, Clary watched as Daniel's body started to disappear in wafts of dark blue smoke, the arrow clattering onto the floor, not even leaving any blood on the tip.

"There. Can you talk now?"

"What - How - what -; Clary stuttered. She was going crazy.

"He was just an illusion. He was never real." Evie sighed. "My illusion."

 _I went out with someone nonexistent?_ Clary thought, horrifying images of eating dinner alone and talking to herself in a crowded restaurant running through her head.

"But he could hold things - touch them." Alec murmured. Jace was quiet looking at Evie almost glassily. You could almost see the clockwork running and clicking in his head, the puzzle pieces fitting in his head.

"It's my own special little trick. Very special." Evie said proudly, a hard glint in her eyes.

"You're not just faerie. What are you really?" Jace said quietly.

Evie looked at Jace, studying him.

"You're different from the rest. Smarter. You see things quicker." Evie said, smiling appreciatively. "I wouldn't mind having someone like you as a pet."

Jace didn't reply while Colette scowled. Alec put a hand to his weapons belt, his hand curling around the hilt of a seraph blade.

"I'll answer your question if you answer theirs." Clary said quietly. Evie looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

"You know all I need is to cast a truth spell on you and you'll tell me everything? And I mean _everything._ "

"And," Jace said. "All we need to do is blame you for the disappearance of a well respected Shadowhunter well as trying to poison her with fae cocktails and the Clave will punish you in the most severe way possible."

"I wasn't going to poison her! Just meant to get her a little tipsy so she would tell me where the hell her mother was!" Evie groaned, glaring at Jace. "You've caught me in a tight position, little Shadowhunter. I'll answer your questions if Clary answers hers _and_ if you don't report me to the bloody Clave."

"We can't promise you the last one!" Alec said, glaring at Evie.

"Fine." Jace said.

"Swear on it." Evie hissed.

"I swear on the Angel Raziel not to tell the Clave about your actions." Jace said almost exasperatedly. Evie leaned back in satisfaction.

"We have ourselves a deal." Evie grinned. "And to answer your question, I'm a faerie, yes. But I'm also a warlock."

"A warlock? How's that possible? Both of the species are sterile." Isabelle said.

"What would you call it? Some people would call it a miracle of nature. But warlocks and faeries agree that I'm an abomination." Evie said hardly, rolling her eyes.

"But warlocks and fae hate each other. How did they even get close enough to do _that,_ " Alec said uncomfortably. He blushed, making Evie smile.

"You would think they'd die just from first base." Jace agreed, smiling a small, amused smile.

"Adolescents," Evie muttered. "I was given my mother's name and my father's surname. Evangelyn Fine. The fae and Lilith's children hate me for that."

"How old are you?" Colette asked curiously.

Evangelyn glared at Colette heatedly.

Colette screamed as she watched her prized blond hair shrivel up and coarsen. She clutched at it, looking on the brink of tears. Her skin seemed to dry and peel, looking itchy and frankly quite scary.

"What did you do to me you _bitch_!" Colette hissed, her voice hoarse and cracking. Clary watched in horror as Colette's eyes lost their blue color, turning into a dull, dead grey.

She wasn't turning old … no. She was just turning ugly.

"It's a pity humans are sometimes too stupid to keep their mouths shut. That was liberating." Evie said, grinning at Colette's weak and feeble figure.

"What did you do to her?" Isabelle said hardly, a slight glint of anger and fear in her eyes.

"Just a glimpse of her heart. Her cold, wicked and dry heart. Unloved and ugly." Evie spit, her eyes burning.

Colette started to cry. Deep, sad sobs racking through her chest, tearing out of her as she crumbled to the ground. She hugged her body as tears streamed down her peeling, dry cheeks.

"Enough. Take it off her or I swear on the Angel I'll kill you." Clary looked up from Colette and was surprised to see Jace holding a sword to Evie's neck. It nicked her collar, sitting there steadily.

Out of everyone, Jace seemed to hate Colette the most so she was quite surprised that Jace was the first to step up for Colette.

Evie's eyes glinted with a confused mischief as she stared into Jace's eyes. "You're no fun." she sighed. Colette's hair returned to its luscious state and her skin was smooth again. Her eyes filled with color again.

Evie turned to Clary, her eyes bored.

"Where's your mother?"

"She's dead."

The words were a punch to her stomach but she kept her face straight and composed.

Evie sank in her seat. " _Dead? How?_ "

"A demon. Do you have any idea why?" Jace said.

"You think _I_ sent the demon?" Evie hissed, glaring at Jace.

"I never said that. I just asked why."

"No. I would never hurt Keayla." Evie said. "I should have known something was wrong when these loons appeared and you were with them." She gestured to the Shadowhunters in the room. Colette glared at her.

"Evie, how did you know my mother?" Clary said, her voice soft. She wanted answers. She was sick of being so lost. Evie seemed to take a deep breath.

"I've known her since she was a little girl. But I went away. Keayla found me many years later. She came to me in the night, in late August, asking for help. Poetic, I know. She told me that you were sick. That you were dying. She promised one hell of a lot of money for my services. Only God knows how she found me. I hadn't seen her in so long. Stupidly, I went with her to see you."

Evie's eyes were haunted and sorrowful. "I didn't doubt when she said you were sick. I recognized you. At first, you were just a mild familiar face. Later on, I found out more about you. Clarissa Morgenstern. The little girl who lost so much but gained so much more.

"It was like you were in a trance. When I touched you to get any sort of reactionn-nit was one hell of a reaction I got. You screamed and cried and sobbed. It was like you had gone mad. You clawed at me before passing out. I couldn't find anything wrong with you aside the fact you had a Block in your mind. It was an unusual Block. I couldn't break it.

"It was safe to say that the Block was probably one of the reason for your misery. I put a spell on you - meant to strengthen your will and mind. You suffered severe mind trauma. Believe it or not, it would've killed you if I hadn't stepped in."

Clary realized that Jace was very quiet, his fists clenched.

"There's one thing I don't understand." Alec murmured, looking at the carpeted floor.

"My story is all truths. I wouldn't lie about this." Evie spat.

"No, no. Not about your story. You see, Clary is known by ninety percent of the Shadowhunter and Downworld population. How come no one recognized her in London and reported her obvious animated state to the Clave?"

"That would be my doing." Evie said. "Keayla told me that there were people after Clary … meaning to hurt her. So, I put a twenty four seven glamour on her. As you know, my being a hybrid of a warlock and faerie, my magic and glamours are … unique. Nobody - Shadowhunter or Downworlder - would be able to see through the glamour with ease and recognize Clary. I made it a strong one. Strong enough to beat the ones in Idris. Of course, glamours don't last forever and my one was more a spell than anything. I had to … renew its strength. Every month. There's -"

"Did it not occur to you that it would ease some of _our_ grief if we had known that Clary was alive?" Jace said through gritted teeth. "Do you know how painful it was? Thinking that Clary was dead?"

"Let me finish, _Herondale!_ " Evie said, clearly losing her patience. "I put a loophole in the glamour. The only two people that would be able to see past the glamour is you, Herondale, and Keayla." Jace narrowed her eyes at her. Evie turned to Clary. "Keayla didn't tell me _fully_ why you weren't in New York where you belong. All she told me was that she was acting as your mother to keep you safe. And she made me swear not to tell anyone about you. I value my promises and I don't intend to break them.

"But I didn't fully trust Keayla's plan on keeping you safe and hidden so I put in that loophole for Jace. If he found you, he would have taken you home and never let you out of his sight ever again and probably locked you in the basement."

Alec smirked while Isabelle shrugged. Colette rolled her eyes as she folded her arms across her busty chest.

"But," Evie sighed. Clary could hear the sadness and regret in her voice. "I didn't put a glamour on Keayla. So while they couldn't find you, they could find her. Whoever _they_ are, they're dangerous and ruthless. Be careful who you trust, Clary."

"Why can't she remember?" Jace pressed. Clary could see the extra effort it took for him to keep calm. Clary found herself annoyed that Jace was speaking as if she wasn't here.

"I had nothing to do with that. I swear to it. She was already completely clueless about the Shadow World when I first treated her. I didn't dare try to bring her memories back. I didn't even know what caused the loss of memory in the first place. I could've damaged that pretty little head forever. I suspected that the memories would come back slowly ..."

"But there must be something you can do for her -" Jace started.

That's it.

"Stop talking like I'm not here." Clary snapped, glaring at Jace and Evie. God, that boy seemed to get a kick out of annoying her.

Evie chuckled. "I don't know what caused _you_ to lose your memories so I didn't attempt to bring them back. The mind is a fickle thing. If I had done one thing wrong you could've died or worse, destroyed your pretty mind, leaving you a living lifeless corpse."

"You sound just like Magnus," Isabelle muttered, loud enough only for Clary to hear. Clary arched an eyebrow at her and she shrugged.

Evie perked up at the name. "You know Magnus?"

Alec and Isabelle stiffened. "Yes … do you?"

"Ah, Magnus," Evie sighed. "My temporary lover and guardian angel."

Alec, Jace and Isabelle's eyes widened, especially Alec's.

"You see, a few decades ago, I was in a little … problem. I may or may not have put the idea of World War Two in a certain Nazi madman's head ..."

"You started World War Two?!" Clary shrieked, making Evie flinch.

"Don't worry, I paid the price for it. I'm now banned in France for the next seven hundred years. China was more lenient. If you could call it that … Im allowed in China but I'll be killed on sight by any Shadowhunter that sees me." Evie huffed. Colette smirked, making Evie roll her eyes.

"So, after the war ended, some idiot found out and blabbered off to France and China that I had planted the idea in that cuckoo's head. Shadowhunters and Downworlders were sent after me to kill me. Magnus found me while I was on the run and hid me for a decade or so, until the storm blew by. And that decade of hiding was the best of my years. Hours upon hours of love making, listening to Magnus's stories, visiting places I never knew existed...the love making especially." Evie sighed.

Clary could have sworn that everyone in the room besides Evie was turning a little green, herself included.

But for once she wasn't lost. What with three hours to spare this morning, she had locked herself in her room and read the Codex. She now knew that most fae, all warlocks and vampires were immortal.

"So how is he?"

"He's great." Alec muttered. Evie looked at him questioningly.

Isabelle sighed. "He's Alec's boyfriend." she explained.

Clary's eyes widened slightly. Alec was gay?

Clary was far from a hater. She didn't mind or made big deals about gay people. She saw them as equals but somehow the fact that Alec was gay was kind of surprising to Clary.

Alec blushed, looking down at his weapons.

Evie's eyes sparkled as she sat forward, studying Alec.

"You're Magnus's new love interest? I'm not surprised. He's always had a thing for pretty ones though I'd expect him to go for someone like Jace. Stronger, confident and someone who would meet Magnus head on." Evie said, studying Alec from head to toe.

"Alec _is_ strong." Jace defended as if he didn't understand what Evie meant by him being stronger than Alec.

Clary could hear the protective brotherly tone Jace was speaking in and Clary felt her heart warm slightly. She guessed that she would rarely see this side of Jace.

"Send my regards to Magnus, Alec. Be careful he doesn't break your heart to little angelic shards." Evie grinned. Alec glared at her.

"Before this gets ridiculous, do you have anything that can help us. Anything at all?" Jace pressed, trying to change the topic.

Evie sighed, changing moods again. The change of moods and topics were giving Clary a headache.

"A name. He's a Shadowhunter. Martin Starkweather."

Isabelle and Jace clearly stiffened at the name. "Starkweather? Are you sure?" Clary heard the slight tremble in Jace's voice.

"As sure as I am about the fact I have 488915 strands of hair on my head." Evie said, her tone casual and confident.

"You know, that doesn't really make me feel any more confident in you." Jace said in a monotone voice, his eyebrows raised.

"I have 488915 hairs on my head, okay? I'm confident about it,"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Where can we find him?"

"Not in any Institute I can promise you. He owns a Downworlder club. Very famous among Downworld. Not so much by Shadowhunters." There was a dreamy look to Evie's face, an amused smile playing in her lips.

"A Shadowhunter running a Downworlder club? Interesting." Isabelle mused.

"He threw away the title of _Nephilim_ long time ago. Anyways, Keayla, mentioned to me that Martin was helping her _protect_ something and that he could be trusted if I ever needed help. He could be useful though the chap is drunk half of the time. You'll have to be patient with him."

"Thank you. We'll go now." Jace muttered. "Um, sorry about your couch."

Before they left, Evie was kind enough to give them the address to Martin Starkweather's club. It had lead them to a large corner lot establishment. It was obvious from the lack of customers and life that it was only active at night. A big sign that wrote ' _ **LABYRINTH**_ ' sat above the entrance, a sign that would be glowing in blinding neon lights by nightfall.

A large creature wearing a trench coat and some thick gloves stood at the entrance, looking like it was acting as the bouncer.

Looking closely, Clary saw that he had granite colored skin and no ears. It's eyes were all black and it had a two folded grey wings that sprouted from its shoulder blades. It's head was bowed until Jace cleared his throat, stepping up to meet it. It kinda looked like a gargoyle.

A very huge, very terrifying gargoyle that guarded a club instead of a church.

"State your business, Shadowhunter." it growled in a throaty guttural voice.

"We want to see Martin Starkweather. Official Nephilim business." Jace said, staring at it in the eye.

"What _business_?" the creature growled.

"There's a reason it's a _Nephilim_ _business,_ isn't it?" Jace said, clearly losing his patience.

The creature huffed before stepping aside.

"Make it quick." he huffed. "He's in the back."

One by one, they went into the club, avoiding the creature. As Clary was passing the gargoyle creature, it latched onto her arm making Clary jump and squeak in surprise. Its hand literally felt like granite on her skin.

"You're not Nephilim. No entry." he growled, yanking her back harshly.

There was the sound of a sword unsheathing and the hand that clutched onto her arm was no longer connected to it's body. The arm came away like smashed rock and the hand that clutched her hand disintegrated into fine rubble. The creature howled, stumbling back and away from the both of them.

"She is Nephilim." Jace said quietly. He took Clary's hand and showed the creature one of her faded scars. It glared spitefully at Jace as it clutched its stump to his body.

"C'mon." Jace urged, leading her inside the club.

"What the hell is it?" Clary whispered, rubbing her sore wrist.

"Not exactly sure. It's a hybrid. A gargoyle and something together. Ugly thing."

Clary saw Colette's eyes burning into hers and she felt cold all of a sudden.

"Thanks, Jace." she muttered before darting away from him and to Isabelle's side.

"Are you okay?" she asked. She had a seraph blade in one hand and a gem encrusted dagger in another.

"I'm fine." she replied as they, are their way through the empty club.

A bar sat in the far left corner of the club, bottles of liquor and shiny neon colored liquids sitting in the shelves behind it. In the middle of the large bar, the floor was elevated and was bright blue plastic. Clary guessed that that was the dance floor. There a metal spiralling staircase that led to the second floor where the DJ corner was set up. In the right side of the first floor, chairs and tables were set up.

They walked around the dance floor and stopped at a wooden door in the back of the club.

Scribbled on the door, the words ' _ **CLUB MANAGER**_ ' on the front.

The inched forward and Isabelle nudged the door open. It opened with a rusty creak and revealed what was inside.

Clary's heart seized up and one word raced across her mind: _Mom_.

 **A/N - Hello my ever loyal lovelies! It seems like you guys are obsessed with this story with is very flattering! Thank you for all the wonderful comments :D Love you guys! How'd you like my Jace and Alec parabatai moment? Haha … phone sex.**


	20. Labyrinth

**Chapter 19 - Labyrinth**

The first word that ran across her mind was: _Mom_.

The second thing thing she thought was: _I'm going to throw up._

Clary felt her gag reflex kick into action as the smell of rotting meat and burned metal drifted to her nose and shoved its way down her throat.

Blood was splattered across the floor and walls, chunks of meat stuck to the sticky crimson. In some places, they were smeared and there were claw marks on the cheap wallpaper. The room was like any regular private office: big table in the middle of the room and a comfortable office chair behind it.

The table was littered with pens, bloodied papers and more blood which could've been spilt red ink.

And in the chair, a half eaten body sat, staring at them with one eye and an open mouth. Well, it would've been an open mouth if the jaw had been attached to his face.

He had an eye missing and a the rest of his face was a bloody, raw red mess. His arms were suspiciously placed on the chair's armrests - and a hand missing all fingers. His shirt was ripped to shreds, revealing a sickening cavity in his chest, all his respiratory organs visible.

Before Clary allowed herself to see anymore, she spun around and out of the room, crumbling to the floor as she leaned against a wall, her breathing ragged.

Bloody images flashed in her mind like a replay: her mother's body, of the demon, of the blood and gore in her apartment. And unfamiliar ones of _mutilated bodies_ and an army in red, all dead, their eyes staring sightlessly.

She clutched at her head, begging the images to stop before her heart did. She didn't care if she looked like a freaking mental with an episode right now. She just wanted them to _stop_.

The world around Clary disappeared as the images claimed her every sense. She couldn't breathe - couldn't think.

Vaguely, she felt herself being shaken after what felt like an infinity later. Her eyes flew open - she didn't remember ever closing her eyes - and stared into a warm gold.

Jace.

She saw his mouth shape words and she realized that the words had been her name.

 _Clary Clary Clary Clary …_

Holding her lungs together, she forced them to accept the air and her sense of hearing returned.

" _Clary?_ " Jace asked. She could hear the heart wrenching concern and fear in his voice and once again, she was confused.

 _Why did he care so much? Even Isabelle wasn't staring at her like she was dying_ , Clary thought.

Instead, Isabelle was glaring at Colette, her fists clenched as she said something, too soft Clary to hear. Colette shot back a retort with narrowed eyes.

She heard the end of Colette's sentence and she wanted to glare at the blond bitch but her brain at the moment was incapable in thinking straight.

"- sure she's just not having a brain hemorrhage of something? Her brain could be broken." Colette said, shrugging.

"French Fry, I swear on the Angel I'm going to slap you if you don't shut up." Isabelle hissed. Colette rolled her eyes before shifting them to Clary, shooting her killer glares.

"Clary. Are you okay?" Her attention turned to Jace again who was looking at her like she had been hit by a truck. She took a deep, shaky breath and slowly lowered her hands from her ears.

"I'm sorry. I ..." she stuttered, her breaths shaky and rattling.

"It's okay." Jace sighed, brushing her cheek slightly with the back of his hand. Her skin burned where he touched her. Clary found it utterly ridiculous to be soothed greatly just by the gentle brush of someone she barely knew - but she was.

"It's just that ..."

"I know." His tone told her that no further explanation was needed. She nodded.

Suddenly, Jace latched onto her arm and yanked her harshly away from the wall, pulling her to a standing position at the same time.

 _How the hell did he have enough strength for that?_

Her arm felt like it had yanked out of its socket. She rubbed her shoulder, prepared to curse at Jace when she saw all of the Shadowhunters backing away, their weapons raised. Jace nudged her backwards slowly, his arms slightly held out protectively as he clutched his weapons.

Clary peered over Jace's shoulder and felt her blood run cold at the sight of a large - it was no smaller than an average sized car - demon glaring at them as it stood in the doorway of Martin Starkweather's office.

The demon reminded her of a blob of hard goo. That's what it looked like.

Its body dripped with goo and it was a whitish brownish color. There were smears of red everywhere on its long, fat body. It threw its head back in a loud chitter as it eyed them, occasionally snapping its large pincers.

"Is that a Behemoth demon?" Alec asked, squinting at it. They had stopped retreating a few seconds ago. They had a good twenty feet distance between them and the demon.

"I don't know … looks like it but when the hell did they install new and improved pincers?" Jace growled.

"And it's so … big." Isabelle said, disgust in her tone.

"This bloody thing better be fully corporeal." Jace muttered before he launched forward, attacking the demon.

" _Gailee_!" he named the seraph blade. It flared to life in his hand as he plunged the blade into the Behemoth. Goo and black ichor spilled from the wound but it snarled loudly before advancing towards them.

" _Rahaim_!" Isabelle cried. The blade flared to life before she launched herself at the demon.

She heard soft clicks behind her - the sound you could faintly hear when you wore heels against a marble surface - and she whirled around, paralyzed at the sight of three advancing demons that frankly, looked like barbequed gorilla crabs. They were at the other end of the large club but they took big, alarming steps.

Their skin were a charred black and red colored and they left scorch marks from where they walked. They walked like gorillas - their large arms and hands supporting them as they walked.

Large claws stuck out from the hands, creating the clicking sound she heard earlier. And that was where all traits to gorillas ended. They had at least fours eyes and their backs was protected by hard ash colored shells.

"Alec … Simon ..." Clary squeaked.

Alec, who was in the preparation of throwing himself at the Behemoth turned around first.

That," she said, pointing. Alec looked up and swore colorfully. Simon and Colette turned and froze, their eyes going wide.

"We could use a little help!" Isabelle screamed as she groaned.

"We've kinda got our hands full here." Simon called back, stepping aside so she could see.

"Oh." Isabelle swore loudly.

"Seriously!" Jace said as he grunted. There was a wet squishing sound and a chitter. "Are all the demons on steroids today? Those aren't Hrantis, those are freaking tanks!"

"They all are a little big today," Alec said.

Without any courtesy for a warning, one of the three demons started barreling towards them.

" _Nakir!_ " The blade in Alec's hand shined brightly as he met the demon head on.

The demon swiped at Alec with one of its claws, growling as Alec ducked in time. In a swift slice, one of the demon's arm was dismembered from its body. It howled, the sound like chalk scraping against a blackboard.

"Clary, take this. It's name is _Casilla_." Simon urged, pressing the seraph blade into her hand.

The other two demons charged at them.

"I think you better sit this one out, little red." Colette said, glancing over at Clary. She smirked before attacking the demon. Simon shoved Clary to a side as the demon lunged at him.

All of the Shadowhunters except her were well occupied. Alec was on the back of his one armed demon, trying to find a soft spot in its hard shell. Jace and Isabelle were wrestling with the demon, occasional grunts and chitters emanating from that fight. Simon kept ducking and avoiding the swipes the demon was aiming at him. Colette was trapped under the demon she was fighting, screaming as she blocked him off.

Out of some unfamiliar feeling that came over her, Clary grabbed the dagger she hid if her boot and flung it, her actions faster than her mind. She found herself shocked that she had just thrown a dagger, untrained without any pointers, at a demon.

To her surprise, the dagger nestled itself in one of the demon's eyes. It flung itself back and off Colette, clawing at the dagger which stuck grotesquely from his eye. The clawing only managed to sink the dagger further in its eye. Colette scrambled up, throwing Clary a hesitant thank you glance before she went back to fighting the demon.

There was a loud groan as Jace was flung of the Behemoth. He was thrown in her direction and he landed with a pained groan.

"Jace!" Clary screamed, alarmed as she went to his side. Jace had propped himself up on his elbows his face facing the floor as he muttered soft curses to himself. "Are you okay?"

"Everything hurts, my hair's a mess … I've had better days." he groaned, taking out his stele. He drew an _iratze_ \- a rune she now recognized from reading another book Jace had gave her - the Grey book. He drew a couple more unidentifiable runes on his body.

"Stay away from the fights, will you?" Jace said, throwing her a cocky half smile before joining his sister again.

A loud snarl pulled her attention to whichever demon that had made the sound.

It was the demon Simon was fighting. Simon ducked, sticking the sword he held in his hand into its body. The demon was efficiently sliced in half, its guts and ichor spilling out from the wound in its stomach before bursting into fine ash.

Simon stared at the demon's ashes and a knowing look crossed his face. He facepalmed himself.

"Alec, stop humping the damn thing! It doesn't have anything hard on its bottom. Hit. It. In. The Belly." Simon called.

Alec shot Simon a glare but took his advice. He threw himself off and under the demon which was quite easy because the demon had lifted its big arms and was trying to claw at Alec, leaving an easy entrance to it's exposed belly. He narrowly avoided one of the clawed hands as he dragged _Nakir_ down the demon's abdomen. He yanked the blade out before slamming his feet into the demon, kicking him to a side.

On the dance floor, literally, Colette was stabbing viciously at the demon's soft belly, having heard Simon's advice.

Clary was suddenly very aware of the soft snarling behind her. Warily, she turned around and choked back a scream at the sight of large being that could only be a demon. It looked like it was made out of glowing embers and it stood crouched slightly, like it was ready to launch itself at her. It stood at least three heads taller than her and she suddenly felt very small.

Her vision seemed to expand when she realized that there were two of these demons, both looking at her with their black pits for eyes. Their arms ended in long claws that almost scraped the ground. Black, curling smoke flowed in wisps too.

" _Casilla_ ," she whispered, choking on her own fear. She felt the seraph blade flare to life in her tight grasp. It was warm and soothing to the touch and it sent tiny electrical buzzes that got her adrenaline pumping.

They made a high pitched snarl at the light of her angel blade and advanced forward at the same time, making Clary retreat, the angel blade held in front of her.

Clary took a quick glance towards the door and noticed a big pile of crushed rock sitting outside the door in a heap...and locks melted shut.

Suddenly, Clary felt herself hitting someone's back. She found herself pressed against Isabelle. She saw that the Behemoth had disappeared but another demon had been quick to take its place. Jace was staring at her and glaring at the demons that stalked her, occasionally glancing at the huge demon that stalked him and Isabelle.

Alec, Simon and Colette joined them, their own demons stalking them.

"Where are they coming from?" Isabelle said incredulously. Some of her hair had slipped from her ponytail, leaving the loose tufts dangling on either side of her face.

In the corner of her eyes, Clary saw a demon fall and land quietly, joining the pack of demons that circled them.

Clary looked up and swallowed back bile.

Some demons clung to the ceiling while some stood in the second, peering over the balcony at them. Most of them were the ember demons that stood in front of Clary. Very few were the ugly demons Alec, Colette and Simon had fought.

"Look up." The voice didn't belong to her but Jace. There were several sharp intake of breaths as they saw the cornering demons.

"Well, this is going to be fun, isn't it?" Jace said. She could hear the grin in his sentence.

 _No. Not good. I don't know how to fight. Not good!_

The demons snarled quietly and Clary saw Jace's grin stretch like he was getting cake instead of a murderous horde of three dozen or so demons. There were too many for her to make a solid guess.

One of the demons let out a high cry and all the demons launched themselves.

Clary heard Jace say "This is going to be easy," before the sound of demonic growls and battle cries from the Shadowhunters filled the air.

What little self defence she learned from the short four months her mother had sent her to (notably by force) taekwondo classes kicked into to gear and Clary felt ever so slightly safer. Ever so slightly.

One of the ember demons lunged at her and she screamed, dropping to the ground. So much for self defence.

She quickly scrambled to her feet, avoiding a lunging demon just before it decapitated her. She managed to somehow swing the seraph blade in her hand and chopped off one of the demon's arms.

It spun around, growling as it glared at Clary. She swallowed back bile at the murderous look it was giving her. As she backed away, she felt herself trip on something. Pain shot up her tailbone as she landed hard on the floor.

The demon howled and lunged at her and, in a desperate attempt, raised her hand to cover her face.

"Hello," an amused voice said from above her. She opened her eyes and saw Jace towering over her. He arched an eyebrow before grinning.

"Haha." she said, rolling her eyes. His grin softened into a smile, giving her his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. "Thanks," she muttered.

A black figure loomed up behind Jace, towering over him.

" _Jace_!"

There was a flash of a blade as Jace whirled around.

He blocked the demon's descending arm with one arm. He ducked to the other side of the arm and with the blade he held in his free hand, he dismembered the ember arm before plunging the blade into the demon's long body.

It screeched and burst into a fountain of fiery ashes. Jace barely had time to catch a breath before another ember demon reared up behind him.

Jace drove the seraph blade into the demon's body and twisted. Clary looked away as the demon burst into ashes before any of the ashes could fly into her eyes.

There was a loud scream that made Clary's ears ring. Jace looked up, his eyes going wide.

"Be careful." he warned to Clary before killing his way through the horde of demons to get to the scream.

A flash of gold and silver in her peripheral caught her attention as it turned away from the second floor balcony which was now empty of all demons. A soft giggle followed after. It was a compelling, tinkly sound that urged Clary to follow.

She made a mad dash towards the spiralling metal staircase, avoiding and swerving around demons and the fighting Shadowhunters.

"Clary! Where are you going?" Simon called but his voice was drowned out by the snarls of demons. She barely heard him.

Carefully, she made her way up the stairs, leaving the fight.

The second floor was cool and dark. Littered on the floor, Clary saw confetti and patches of water and tried to mute her footsteps. She shivered at the cold atmosphere on the second floor.

She was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Her shoes were comfortable sneakers but they didn't do to well in the stealth department. She lifted her seraph blade to illuminate the second floor.

Clary heard the giggle again and this time it seemed to be taunting her.

" _Clary_!" a soft, delicate voice squealed excitedly. She whirled, gripping the seraph blade tightly in her hands.

No, she refused to be the idiots in horror movies who went "Hello? Who's there?" in a dark place when there was clearly someone there to either kidnap or murder you.

She walked further into the second floor. With what little light she had, she saw a lounge with plush chairs and wooden tables and the faint outline of another dance floor, a few feet in front of her.

"Hello, Clary." the soft voice said again. It seemed to be coming from behind her. She whirled around, her blade poised to kill.

The light from the blade was enough so she could see the person's face.

 _Oh my God …_

" _You_?" Clary gasped, taking an involuntary step backwards. "What are you doing here?"

" _Come on, Clary_." she groaned. "Who wants to watch that stupid fight your _friends_ are participating in? I'd rather much talk to you." she says, grinning. "Then again, you shouldn't have seen me. You make things very difficult for me, Clary." she huffs, pouting, not at all acting like the girl she knew.

"But ..."

"I have to ask … how did you like the presents I left for all of you? I thought the Behemoth was a nice touch ..."

"You sent the demons to kill us? Why? I thought you were one of us?"

Clary's heart thumped painfully in her chest. This couldn't be happening …

The girl in front of her shrugged, crossing her arms.

Clary saw a glint of something gold and silver coiled around her wrist. The same gold and silver that had caught her eye.

"What should I do with you?" she sighed as she circled Clary.

She stopped her circling and cocked her head to a side, looking at Clary with narrowed eyes. Suddenly, she broke into a cruel grin.

Clary couldn't even let a scream escape before her hand descended on her face, the last thing she saw the silver and gold piece that wrapped itself around the girl's wrist.

Jace had been in many, many fights, his demon count teetering to nearly one thousand five hundred. He guessed that the 1500 mark had been made by the amount of demons he had killed in the last five minutes.

A Spider demon charged at him, spitting venom as it did. Jace ducked but some of the venom hit his shoulder. It sizzled the fabric of his shirt and jacket away, burning the skin underneath. Jace hissed at the pain before - bringing his blade down on the Spider demon's thorax. It scuttled to a side, letting out a high pitched snarl before bursting into a cloud of ashes, cutting it off.

Jace dropped the dimming seraph blade, the blade and hilt slick with ichor.

He took out another one, naming it _Cassiel_ before turning to an ember demon. It only took a simple stab to its abdomen and dragging the blade upwards to kill it.

There were only a few demons left, the rest had been refined to A-grade demonic ash. He easily sliced through the charging ember demon and beheading another one all in one move.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. His adrenaline pumped in his veins, making the Heavenly Fire sing in his veins.

A few feet away, Alec was literally off his feet by an ember demon, slapping him aside. Jace rolled his eyes before running to his aid.

"You can wipe that smirk of your face, now." Alec muttered, groaning. He pulled an arrow from its sheath before launching it into the ember demon's head.

"There's always something satisfying about seeing a demon burst into ash, isn't there?" Jace said casually, pulling his _parabatai_ to his feet.

"No. It's _satisfying_ when a demon doesn't burst into ashes on your _Persian carpets_ ," Alec said, releasing another arrow. This time, the arrow embedded itself in a Hrantis' arm. Alec swore before pulling back another arrow and releasing it in a sinuous movement.

"Who buys _Persian_ carpets nowadays? Ugh." Jace said, launching himself up before stabbing an ember demon in the neck viciously. He dragged the blade down as he landed on his feet, the demon bursting apart.

"I rephrase that. It's satisfying when a demon doesn't burst into ashes on your new fighting gear." Jace said in disgust, brushing some of the ash off his shoulder. "I mean -"

Jace cut off as an alarmingly burning arm wrapped itself around his neck, cutting off his airways. Jace allowed his Heavenly Fire to flare, burning the demon. It stumbled back, screeching at the contact of Heavenly Fire. The moment the demon released him, he felt an arrow whistled past his face - he could feel the slight tremble in the air as it barely missed his ear - and embedded itself in the demon.

Jace didn't need to turn around to know that the demon had now turned to a pile of ashes.

"You're welcome," Alec hinted.

"You actually want me to _say_ it? I thought we always had this manly bro _parabatai_ thing where we could stare at each other meaningfully and the other would get the message, replying with a curt nod?"

"A 'thank you' would be nice too."

"Yeah … but a 'stare into each other's soul and replying with a curt nod in a manly way' is so much cooler." Jace said, slashing an ember demon across the face. An arrow buried itself in the demon's forehead half a second later.

Jace looked around, surprised to see that there were no more demons to fight.

Simon was tending to a wound Izzy had in her head. She flinched and hissed as Simon probed at cut that ran from the middle of her forehead to her ear.

"I'm sorry! Just … stay still." Simon said, a small smile playing on his lips as Isabelle made a face. Simon took out his stele and drew an _iratze_ on her forehead. The wound closed up and she sighed.

"Thanks, Simon." she said, giving him a quick peck on the lips. She ran her hand along her long electrum ichor covered whip, flicking ichor off the end. She wiped her hand on her leather gear. There was a certain ecstatic light in Izzy's eyes, like she had done something she was really proud of. Jace guessed he probably looked that way too after killing thirteen demons in ten minutes. He probably did.

Colette was leaning against a wall, catching her breath. She looked tired though her lips were curved into an easy smile as she looked at the slight layer of dust that covered the floor.

Jace suddenly realized that everyone was here except Clary. He looked around frantically, his heart rate picking up again as he couldn't find Clary anywhere in sight.

"Where's Clary?" he said. He could hear the panic in his voice as spoke.

"I saw her make a beeline for the stairs -" Simon started but was quickly cut off by Jace.

"It would've been convenient if you had said so sooner!" Jace groaned, he himself making a beeline for the stairs. He bounded up the steps two at a time, fishing in his pocket for his witchlight.

Light spilled through his fingers as he clutched his rune stone in his hand. The second floor was dark and cold; something here made him shiver and it wasn't because of the cold.

"Clary?" he called out. He could hear his boots making soft scuffling voices against the wooden floorboards.

He raised the witchlight higher, willing it to shine brighter.

Frustrated, Jace pulled out his stele and drew a sight enhancement rune. The rune kicked into action immediately and Jace caught sight of a slumped figure leaning against a wall. A tangle of red hair stood out against the darkness and Jace felt ice shoot down his spine.

He ran over to her slumped figure, his witchlight clutched tightly in his hand.

" _Clary?_ " he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. There was a fresh gash on her forehead, blood trailing from forehead to her cheek.

"Clary," Jace whispered, hearing his voice break.

Why could he never keep her safe, no matter how hard he tried? Why did she always get hurt no matter what?

As if him calling her name had been like waking a person up, Clary stirred, lifting her head and wincing.

"Jace?" she whispered, her voice soft and cracking. She sucked in a sharp breath and released it, her exhalation rattling.

"God, that hurt," she hissed.

"Your head?" Jace said, about to take out his stele.

"No. Breathing." she groaned, clutching his arm tightly as she took another painful rattling breath. She squeezed her eyes tightly as she exhaled.

"That probably means you either pulled a muscle or broken a rib."

Even through the darkness and with his enhancement rune, he saw Clary roll her eyes.

"Yep. Stupid me. _Must_ be the pulled muscle. I _knew_ I shouldn't have done yoga in a dark club while you guys fought killer demons." she said sarcastically though Jace saw the action of speaking hurt her.

"Broken ribs then?" Jace sighed. "Who did this to you, Clary?"

All form of any sarcastic eye rolls and pain wiped off her face.

"I can't remember." she said, her eyebrows scrunching together.

"What do you mean you can't remember?"

"I _mean_ I that everything is blurry. I can't remember anything right." Clary said, groaning in frustration.

"It's okay. We'll figure this out later. Now -"

"Um, I hate to ruin the moment, really, but someone just set the ground floor of this damned place on fire." Simon gushed, his voice panicked as he bounded up the stairs to them.

"Oh great." Jace said, kneeling on one knee. "What's next? A gas leakage?" he said rolling his eyes.

"Guys, if you don't want to be crisp fries, I suggest we get out of here! A freaking gas pipe just broke!" Alec called in a frantic voice from downstairs.

Simon glared at Jace. "You had to jinx it."

Jace groaned before scooping Clary up in his arms. She squeaked in protest but decided against it as she sucked in a sharp breath in pain. Simon and him ran down the stairs, their training in light, graceful sure footing diminishing the chance of tumbling the stairs like fools in a sad mess up parody.

The air was already starting to thicken with ashy, choking smoke. Jace coughed before making a quick dash for the opening entrance where Simon was waiting for them.

He was trying to be extremely gentle with Clary as he ran but one could only be so gentle when you were trying to make it out of a burning building alive. One part of the club exploded, the sound a deafening boom.

Clary curled herself up against Jace's chest and whimpered as the movement of his body as he ran jostled her.

The moment he was out of the club, he threw himself forward to hide behind a wall that Alec and the rest had taken refuge behind. Alec gestured towards them. He was about to climb out from behind the wall to help Jace when the club blew up, the force of the explosion throwing Jace and Simon forward further.

He jumped behind the wall, his breathing ragged. He landed shakily, almost falling forward with Clary. Simon on the other hand landed on his feet which gave so he hit the pavement with his knees, elbow and shoulder.

Alec gripped Jace's arm and leaned him against the wall. Jace shut his eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air. He looked down and saw that Clary had become unconscious again, probably due to the smoke. He sighed, guilt so heavy in his chest it was almost painful.

At the thought of pain, Jace winced and groaned, feeling at his side. He looked down and saw that a piece of sharp shrapnel was sticking out of his body, probably just missing his kidney. It must have been from the explosion. Gently, he leaned Clary against the wall before shaking Alec's shoulder.

"Alec," he groaned.

"Hmm?" Alec said, turning to him. His eyes widened to the size of golf balls at the nasty sight of the shrapnel sticking out of Jace's body.

"By the Angel," Alec murmured. "You've got some on your shoulder too. Minor ones. Let's get you home."

Isabelle wandered over and she looked like she was turning green. "Jace," she gasped.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm pretty sure you guys have seen worse so quit staring." Jace muttered. "Can someone carry Clary?" he groaned as Alec helped him to his feet. By the Angel, that hurt.

This was going to be a _long_ walk home.

"It's stuck." Alec decided finally after ten minutes of torturous wiggling.

Jace lay on his back, his face buried in a pillow to muffle his groans and profanities as Alec tried to wiggle the shrapnel out of his body. He had only managed to pull it half a centimeter out after all that time.

Jace pulled the pillow off his face, glaring at his _parabatai_.

"I think we established that about an hour and a half ago." he said through gritted teeth.

The walk back home had taken an unpleasant hour, partly unpleasant due to Colette's constant whining about her aching feet and hovering over Jace like he was going to die at any moment which was possible but the hovering was completely unnecessary. It wasn't as if Jace _did_ die and Colette had some miraculous way to keep him alive.

The other half hour was spent on this couch, sweating, bleeding and crying out in pain as Alec, who in no way had a future in medicine whatsoever, treated to his cuts and the shrapnel. It was no fun lying on your back where you had some metal chips in his shoulder.

"How do I do this?" Alec groaned in frustration, running a hand through his already untidy hair.

Isabelle, who had been watching all this while rolled her eyes and shoved Alec. "Move." she commanded. Alec rolled his eyes, muttering "Bossy," as he moved away.

Isabelle's eyes met Jace's gold ones. "You better bite down on something," she warned.

"I suddenly prefer Alec." Jace said to particularly no one. Isabelle nudged the shrapnel to shut him up. Pain shot up in every direction as Jace fought back a scream. He glared at Isabelle, his nostrils flaring.

"Bite. Something. Now." Isabelle said as she positioned the pliers on the shrapnel. Taking a deep breath, he brought the pillow back to his face and bit down on the plushy item, hard.

Isabelle yanked the shrapnel out of his body and Jace clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes shut as agony attacked the spot where the shrapnel had been.

"Wow. It was longer than I expected." Isabelle said. Jace pulled the pillow away and saw that Isabelle had yanked a four inch shrapnel out.

"That hurt worse than I expected." Jace groaned. Blood was flowing from the small cavity in his side.

"Hold that there." Isabelle muttered, handing Jace a piece of folded gauze. Jace took and pressed it to the wound. "Now, sit up so I can deal with your shoulder."

Jace pulled himself painfully into a sitting position and Isabelle yanked and poked at his shoulder. The metal shrapnel in his shoulder weren't too big or buried in too deep so his shoulder didn't hurt too much.

"I wonder what happened to Clary." Alec said.

"She couldn't remember who attacked her." Jace said, staring at the warm fireplace. A small, hot flame flicked slowly, burning at the wood.

"She was attacked?" Alec said, incredulous.

"Noooo." Jace said, pulling the word sarcastically. "She wanted to see if giving herself several head injuries would hurt and rammed her chest into the side of a table intentionally so she'd break her rib."

"What I want to know is where all those demons came from." Isabelle muttered.

"I'm pretty sure that Evangelyn was in on it. She trapped us there!" Colette fumed, crossing her arms over his chest.

"No." Jace said quietly. "I don't think she knew about the demons. She really wanted to help us out."

"How do you know?" Isabelle said, arching her perfect eyebrows questioningly.

"Jace is right. Evie really cared for Keayla. Magnus told me something about her. Something about her finding a young scared lost little girl that didn't have a home. Evie raised her like a daughter but lost her one day … the girl ran away." Alec said.

He looked up at all of them, his eyebrows scrunched together.

"I think Keayla was the little girl."

 **A/N - Yay! So no cliffhanger today. The next chapter's going to be calmer but there will be a plot twist at the end of the chap! Thanks a bunch again for reading and sticking with this story - no matter how heartbreaking it is! :P**


	21. Soul Music

**Chapter 20 - Soul Music**

 _Everything was a dark foggy atmosphere._

 _Clary felt lost, like she was swimming in the middle of the ocean and she was drowning. And in that ocean, there was a force that kept pulling her down every time she tried to come up for air. The surface was so close yet so far._

 _With a strong yank, the force pulled her down and kept her there. She could feel herself going paranoid and her head had begun to feel light. Everything was closing in on her._

 _"There is no pretending," a voice echoed around her, like the person who said it was very far away. "I love you, and I will love you until I die, and if there's a life after that, I'll love you then."_

 _She felt her heart stutter in her chest. Hearing those words, it was like she had found the surface, finally breaking free even though she was still held captive in this oppressing, dark space. To her, the words were like cold water in the middle of a desert, air to a living person or life to a corpse. The words had been so familiar, so real. But they weren't. Were they?_

 _She wanted them to be._

Clary woke up with a start. She sat up and winced, her whole body aching. She rubbed her eyes and found her face stained with tears.

She wiped them away, baffled. She looked around and realized she was in her room, tucked in her bed.

She looked out her window and saw that the sky was dark and cloudy. She was in a pair of blue cotton shorts and a white tank top, When did she get into these clothes?

But even with the fresh change of clothes, she was still filthy; soot, blood and ichor stained her arms. She got out of bed and saw a new shimmering scar on her forearm. The scar of an _iratze_.

Her dream flashed back into her mind and she laughed quietly to herself. What was wrong with her? That feeling she got in the dream was absolutely ridiculous. She shook her head, clearing her absurd thoughts and dreams.

She padded into the cold bathroom, stripping out of her clothes and jumping into the shower. She turned the knob for cold water before adjusting the knob for warm water. She went under the relaxing shower, letting the water beat against her sore back. She grabbed a bottle of body wash that lied on the floor and squirted some of the soap on her palm.

Slowly, she scrubbed all the dirt and blood off her skin, even washing her hair. She watched the dirt, blood and soot go down the drain along with the lemon scented bubbles. As she scrubbed, bits and pieces of this evening's happenings flashed in her mind.

The face of the person who attacked her was blurry and was constantly changing every time Clary tried to remember.

Did her attacker have blond hair … or was she a brunette? All she remembered was that it was a girl. And that funny glint of gold and silver.

Her head began to throb, like a humongous drum was being hit repeatedly inside her head. She turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a warm towel. She ran the towel through her wet hair harshly, planning to go back to sleep immediately. The clock on her bedside table told her it was four in the morning.

She threw on her clothes and crawled into bed. Her head sunk into the pillow but sleep remained out of reach. She groaned in frustration. She hated when she was tired but sleep ran away. She groaned, turning over as she closed her eyes.

 _Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep._ _**Sleep**_ , Clary willed, saying the word over and over again until it lost its meaning.

She opened her eyes and found herself looking at the Codex. She sat up, grabbing the fat book off the bedside table and opened it in front of her. Her eyes skimmed the pages, reading the pages at random when the soft tinkling of music trickled from under her door and into her ears.

She looked up, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

Who could be playing the piano?

The music was soft and smooth. It was the most beautiful thing Clary had heard.

She closed the Codex and hopped of the bed. Her feet brought her to her door and into the dingy hallway. Most of the lights were off and Clary could barely see five feet ahead of her but she trudged on anyway.

The carpet was soft and ticklish under her feet. The music grew louder as she neared the metal stairs. The first step descending the stairs was cold but she was curious to see who was playing.

The music weaved into something more intricate and deep as she reached the first floor. All the lights except for the lights in the living room were off.

She could hear the pronounced amount of emotion that went into the piece that was being played. It put a ball in her throat.

Sadness. Anguish. Grief. Desperation. Hatred.

She peeked around the corner, almost desperate to see who the pianist was. Who she saw surprised her, a small, quiet gasp tumbling from her lips.

Jace sat with his back to her, his hands flowing gracefully and quickly over the ivories, never faltering or missing a note. His posture was relaxed but there was a slight hard tense fixture in his shoulders.

Clary was fascinated by the way Jace's fingers lightly lifted from a key and descending on another with great, graceful speed.

He wore a loose white shirt and a pair of black pants. His blond hair looked messy yet, by some amazing confusing magic, good.

She watched him, mostly concealed behind the wall as he played.

"You're not doing a great job hiding, you know." Jace said lightly as he continued to play his angry piece.

After a few seconds, Clary realized he was talking to her. Slowly, she walked into the living room and towards Jace. She stopped a few feet away, hugging her body awkwardly, partly because she was cold and partly because she had nothing else to do with her hands.

"How did you know?" she said quietly, afraid she would disrupt the quiet nature of the living room and the piece Jace was playing.

"Well, for the last two minutes, I could see you in the reflection of the piano hiding behind that wall and your descent down the stairs weren't exactly ninja-like. Next time, I'd suggest a silence rune." Jace said, never once looking back. He didn't even seem distracted as he talked.

"Next time?" Clary scoffed.

She could almost hear Jace's smile. "Believe me, it's not going to be the last time you spy on me."

Clary scoffed again, rolling her eyes. "Wow."

Jace chuckled quietly, all this while still playing the piano. "You want to sit down?" he said, gesturing to the empty space beside him with his head.

Cautiously, Clary slid onto the piano bench, Jace making some space for her.

Even though he played with a grim, fiery passion for this piece, his face was calm and comfortable - happy even as he concentrated on the keys.

"You play beautifully," she said, admiring the way his long, slender fingers moved. They seemed … looked more … right when Jace was playing the piano than when he was wielding a seraph blade.

His long, slender pianist hands were the hands of a musician. Not a warrior. Yet Jace made them both happen.

"I know right?" he said, smirking. Clary wanted to roll her eyes at his lack of humility. But he knew he was _a lot_ better than _alright_.

Clary didn't say anything. She just enjoyed the music. She found herself on the same emotional turmoil as the piece. Her own anger, sadness, grief and hatred pieced themselves to the piece.

Anger at herself. Sadness for her mother's death. Grief for everyone that died. Hatred for herself, for the people that killed her mother, for her mother. The emotions disappeared when Jace spoke.

"What are you thinking?"

Clary looked at him, pulled out of her train of thoughts.

"I was just wondering how did you manage to incorporate demon hunting and playing the piano into your life?" Clary lied, giving him a fake smile.

He grinned. "Sometimes, the screams and wailing of the damned can be quite inspiring and musical." he said lightly.

Clary frowned down at her hands which rested on her lap. She didn't like talk about the eternally damned and their eternal suffering. It made her uneasy and frankly depressed.

"Im kidding," Jace said, chuckling and she looked up at him again.

"So how _did_ you learn how to play?" Clary said.

Jace stiffened slightly, his eyes going hard. He didn't stop playing but the music morphed into something more soulful and sad. It tugged at her heartstrings.

"My … adoptive _father_ ," he spit the word _father_. "taught me."

"What happened to your real parents?" Clary asked.

She didn't want to be rude but somehow, Clary felt this … _urgency_ to know. She knew she was breaching a very sensitive topic and she was about to bail from her question when Jace answered it.

"They're both dead. My father died in a … war and my mother killed herself after he died." Jace said, staring at the keys. He said the words without emotion, not even a touch of sadness or grief. Clary felt a sharp pang of pity for him though she knew he probably wouldn't like it.

And the pity must have been written all over her face because Jace gave her a rueful half smile. "You don't have to pity me. I barely knew the both of them. The Lightwoods are my real family."

They didn't speak for a long time after that. Clary just sat beside Jace, listening to the now sweet music fill every crevice and corner of the living room. Jace gave her a sideway glance every so often but she chose to ignore them. Well, tried to.

"What?" she said, raising an eyebrow. The way Jace was looking anther made her feel funny.

"Nothing. You just look so happy." Jace said, shrugging.

"And you have a problem with that because ...?"

"I don't have a problem with it. It's just that it seems a little out of place given the circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"You know, sitting next to the guy you hate while he plays the piano and you his sad, tragic backstory." Jace said, shooting her a smile that said ' _I know that's how you feel exactly. You can't lie_ '.

Clary punched him lightly in the waist. Jace winced and groaned softly, the music cutting off as he brought a hand to his side.

"Oh my God! Are you okay? I'm _so_ sorry. What did I hit?" Clary said, alarmed. She bit her lip, her eyes wide as Jace exhaled loudly.

"It's nothing. Just a little injury I got back at the club." he said, straightening up. "It still hurts a little. There are some things even _iratzes_ can't fix."

"What injury?" Clary looked at the place where he was still holding.

Jace shifted uncomfortably. "It's nothing, really. When the club exploded, a piece of shrapnel embedded itself in my side." Jace said, shrugging.

"I'm sorry," Clary mumbled.

Jace looked confused, his eyebrows furrowed. "Why? What did you do?"

"Because you were carrying me when you were running out of the club."

Jace looked ready to argue and Clary knew in no way would Jace admit it was her fault. "Tell me about you." Clary said suddenly, so he wouldn't argue with her.

Jace shut his open mouth. He looked over at her. "Why?"

"No reason. I just … I don't know why. I just want to." she shrugged.

"Alright then," he said. "Where do you want to start?"

"Anywhere." she said.

"Okay. About nine months before my … birth, I was conceived. That is a process where my parents, who I think loved each other very much, got -"

"Oh my God. No. Please. Save me the gory details." Clary said, her eyes wide. Jace grinned. "I meant your childhood or your girlfriend, I don't know." Clary said, rolling her eyes. She noticed very slightly, Jace winced.

"There's nothing much about my childhood, honestly." Jace said, shrugging. "It was mostly hunting, studying, hunting and occasionally going to Idris with Robert and Maryse."

Suddenly, Jace swung his whole body to a side so he was now facing Clary.

"Let me tell you about the time a girl screwed my whole life over." he said, grinning.

"This, should be interesting," Clary mused.

"I was in a famous Downworlder club in Brooklyn with Iz and Alec, hunting a minor demon when she saw me. She followed us down into storage room where we were questioning the demon. She thought the damn thing was human and we were going to kill it for kicks. She threatened to call the police. My first thought was ' _what a stupid mundane_ '. Because, of course, being mundane, she wouldn't be able to see that it was a demon or even understand the term _demon_. Then I realized that we were glamoured. _And she could isee us_.

"At first, I thought she was a faerie or a vampire but she wasn't pretty or pale enough for either. We freaked out of course but there was something about her that kept me from knocking her out cold and locking her in the storeroom. She caught my eye, I guess."

Clary smiled at the wistful smile on Jace's lips. There was a deep melancholy in his eyes and Clary what happened to this girl.

"Then her stupid mundane friend found her in the storage room and she went home with him. After that, we went home and I couldn't keep thinking of her. Called it obsessed if you want, I'll agree. Hodge, my old tutor, insisted that Isabelle go after her the next day but I all but punched Isabelle out cold so I could go get her. I was determined to drag her back to the Institute. After all, who could resist this manly work of art?"

"I'm guessing her?" Clary guessed, truly amused by this story.

"Her." he groaned. "I tracked here to a sad mundane cafe. She was sitting with that mundane friend of hers so I sat down and watched her."

"Wait. You sat down and _watched_ her? Isn't that a bit too stalker like?" Clary mused.

"I doubt she would prefer me to run in and kidnap her though, now that I think of it, it could have been interesting." Jace said, a thoughtful look on his face. "Anyways, she soon realized I was there. I led her into an alley and she confronted me. For a moment, I honestly thought I'd have better chances of survival with a demon than with her. We had quite the _civilized_ conversation until she got a phone call that made her run like hell was chasing her. I followed her and I found her half dead and lying under a demon.

"I took her back to the Institute and things escalated from there. You're probably going to say it's ridiculously cliche to kiss surrounded by flowers at midnight."

"No … I think it's ..." Clary struggled confined the right word. It wasn't exactly cliche and it wasn't exactly over dramatic. "... perfect. So you kissed her?"

"Eventually. It took me surviving a couple of rogue Shadowhunters, a clan of vampires and Izzy's constant, torturous fussing but it was worth it.

"Then, of all the worst possible things that could happen, I found out she was my sister."

Clary's jaw dropped. Jace had a sister? And he had lip locked with h

"I thought she was then it turned out she wasn't and … it's really complicated. I'll tell you another time."

"What happened to her?" Clary wondered.

The melancholy was back in Jace's eyes. "I don't know. She just went missing. Gone. Dead, if you will."

"She went missing? So you assume she's dead? Don't you hope she's coming back?" Clary demanded. Jace didn't seem like the type of person who would just … _give up_. He seemed more like the type of person who would have burned the world to ashes and dug this girl out from the ashes and rebuilding the world again.

Jace leaned in closely, tilting his head slightly. When their faces were only an inch apart, he spoke.

"I'm scared to hope. Being let down hurts more than the straightforward truth. And I've been hurt so much already." Jace said truthfully, staring deep into Clary's green eyes with his gold ones. Clary could see the hurt in his eyes, another glimpse of the poor broken boy that hid under that slick arrogant protective armor.

He pulled back and Clary released a breath she didn't know she had been holding in.

"In your worst times, I guess hope is all you have. It's drives you to do things -drives you forward - and if you don't have hope I guess you don't have a reason or goal." Clary said, looking at her hands which looked so small and so fragile compared to Jace's strong, slender hands.

Jace smiled a half smile. "But hope also holds you back. It keeps you in the past because you're hoping for something that will never come or happen." he stated.

"Are you saying this girl is holding you back from living?"

"No. I was simply stating the downside to hoping. Everything has the good and bad to it and I was simply telling you the bad side to hoping which you clearly failed to see." Jace said shrugging. "To me, she will always be my past, present and future."

Clary smiled softly. "You really love her don't you?"

"More than you know." Jace sighed. He turned back to the piano, lightly tracing some of the keys. He traced the keys with both hands and finally applied pressure. Music filled the room again.

Clary wished someone would love her as much as Jace loved this girl. Unthinkingly, she leaned her head against Jace's shoulder. The sweet music was slowly putting Clary to sleep. Realizing what she was doing, Clary sat straight up and blushed. Her entire being was awake again.

"Sorry. Are you okay with that? I … um ..." Clary said, trying to find the correct words. She hung her head, laughing quietly to herself. "I feel like _such_ an idiot." she sighed.

Jace laughed. "It's okay. I don't mind,"

Clary shook her head and Jace didn't push her further. She sat quietly and continued listening to Jace play. Her eyebrows started to droop and grow heavy again when something Jace said earlier tugged at her memory.

"And I don't hate you," she said, trying not to sound so tired. She was already having a hard time keeping her head up. "Yeah, you annoy the crap out of me but I don't hate you. Yet, at least." she teased.

"Yet," Jace scoffed, rolling his eyes. "That's reassuring."

"At least I don't now." Clary retorted, trying to stop the yawn that was threatening to escape. Jace rolled his eyes and smiled his crooked smile before turning his attention back to the piano. In the end, Clary would find herself leaning against Jace's shoulder as his piano lulled her into the dark abyss of sleep.

Magnus sighed, slumped in his seat. He traced the patterns on the arm chair he was sitting on in the cold, barely lit hallway.

He was bored. He wanted to go home and sleep. But he couldn't. Why, you might ask? And why wasn't he home?

To answer the first question: It was because a very worried, very demanding, very cranky Jocelyn showed up at his loft at twelve in the freaking night and hauled his barely _glitterized_ and dressed being to the Institute, claiming something wasn't _right_. So all of a sudden, Jocelyn Fairchild was a freaking Jedi who sensed a disturbance in the Force.

Which lead to answer the famous second question: Because Jocelyn had hauled his ass to the Institute instead of hauling Luke who was away on official business in Idris. That lucky dog.

Magnus sighed, running a hair through his messy hair. He slumped further in his seat, feeling more and more like an invertebrate.

Through the thick oak doors of the library, Magnus could hear the screaming and commotion between the two ladies that were happening on the inside.

Ugh, women. Not to be sexist or anything, in fact, he _adored_ the opposite sex but this is one of the main reasons he was gay! (Actually, it was so he could wear glitter without being judged. Not that he cared)

" _Maryse! I swear on the Angel that if you don't -_ " Jocelyn screamed, her voice ringing into Magnus's ears.

" _Don't what, Jocelyn? And what will you do? I didn't have to tell you anything but here you are!_ " Maryse yelled and Magnus winced. Things were never good or going great when Maryse Lightwood raised her voice.

" _How dare you -_ " the rest of Jocelyn's sentence dissolved into a stream of profanities, some even unfamiliar to Magnus.

" _Calm down, Jocelyn. Hear me out_!" Maryse pleaded.

Things quieted down inside the library and Magnus strained to listen. He decided that maybe it was best he didn't know everything. He stared at the painting opposite him, of the Mortal Cup and Sword on a gold lined mahogany table.

It was a new painting, one that wasn't there before. Of course, Magnus hadn't been in the Institute for quite a while so this painting could've been hanging there for maybe a little over a year.

The artwork and skill was flawless, pretty much like every other painting in the Institute but there was something different to this painting compared to the other paintings in the Institute.

The colors were brighter, more vibrant compared to the other dark colored paintings, making it somewhat come alive.

Something in the far left corner of the painting, next to the sword, caught Magnus's attention. It was two small round, heavy looking objects.

Magnus got up from his seat and walked closer to the painting for a closer look.

The small round objects had turned out to be a two rings resting atop one another. One dark silvery gold and one silver. The silver atop the gold.

On one ring, the gold one, Magnus could see the mark of a falling star embedded into the metal. The other ring had the pattern of engraved birds in flight.

The Herondale ring and the Morgenstern ring.

Magnus leaned back and crossed his arms. A small smile appeared on his lips. It wasn't too hard to guess who was the artist now.

Then the smile faded from his lips as all happiness did when he thought of Clary.

He missed the petite biscuit that had wrecked his whole life inside out. To Magnus, her death wasn't fair. She had gone through so much and for her to die like that was despicable. When he heard the news, he was ready to knock on Heaven's door repeatedly and demand the Angel return Clary's soul.

Of course, there were many flaws to that plan. For one thing, on account to the going to Heaven part, there was no way to go to Heaven unless you were near death or already dead. And Magnus was not prepared at all to die. And even if he did, he could be sent on a one way trip to hell and seeing that he was particular believer in any religion, that was kind of guaranteed. Secondly, Heaven, may not even _have_ a door.

Thirdly, the Angel probably wouldn't be happy if Magnus disturbed him from whatever important angel work he was doing in Heaven and an angry Angel was something you _do not_ want to mess with.

The library door opened and Magnus spun around, coming face to face with a red eyed Jocelyn. Tears stains streaked down her cheeks and her nose was red.

"Did you know that this painting was -?"

"Magnus, take me home." Jocelyn demanded. "I can't stand this place any longer." she spat, closing her eyes.

Magnus's eyebrows furrowed in confusion but her took her home anyways.

"Jace, wake up."

Everything was foggy in Jace's head and that voice was annoying him.

"Go away, Izzy." he mumbled.

"I'll throw you on the floor again." Izzy said in a sing song voice. Jace opened one heavy eyelid and glared at his sister.

"What do you want?" he said, pulling himself into a sitting position.

"It's six in the morning. Alec stepped out just now and what are you doing on the couch? Why aren't you in your room?" Isabelle sat next to him and crossed her legs.

"I couldn't sleep last night," Jace said, throwing himself onto the back of the couch.

"So … you decided to come downstairs to sleep?" Isabelle said, sounding amused.

Jace rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Don't I?" Isabelle said. "I was up because _I_ couldn't sleep, what with you making that incredible racket all night long."

"Technically, it was all _morning_ ," Jace said.

Izzy rolled her eyes.

"Can I know why you woke me up at the ungodly hour of six in the morning?" Jace said, arching an eyebrow at his sister.

"I needed someone to talk to." Izzy sighed.

Jace's eyes widened. "You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me." he said. "Go talk to the plants! Or Alec!"

"I tried. He didn't want to listen then he went for a run." Isabelle sighed.

Jace rolled his eyes. "Please, Alec has always been ever ready to listen to you. What's any different now? He probably had something _really_ important to do, that's all."

"Like what?" Isabelle scoffed. "Does him taking a morning walk save the world from global warming?"

Jace fought the urge to roll his eyes. Isabelle had always been melodramatic.

"No … I'm just saying -"

A loud banging on the front door cut Jace off.

"It's probably Alec. I'm not surprised if he forgot the keys." Jace said, looking at the door.

"Crap. I was hoping it was those extra naked male strippers I ordered." Isabelle sighed, a small smile on her lips, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"If they're naked, I'd love to see them strip. It'd be quite interesting." Jace mused. He tried to create a mental picture and mentally flinched and cringed.

"Ugh, you're such a perv." Isabelle said, giggling. There a loud knock on the door again but they ignored it.

Jace groaned. "Why do both of you - you and Clary - fail to grasp the fact that _all_ eighteen year old teenage boys are absolute perverts? It's just who we are." Jace said, shrugging.

"I doubt Simon's like that. He's too saint like."

"Saint like my ass. It's all a facade. I can tell you what dirty, kinky thoughts he probably has of you -"

Isabelle put a finger on Jace's lips. "Stop talking. You're going to taint the image I have of Si. And I'm going to be sick."

The banging resumed, louder and more demanding this time and Isabelle groaned in exasperation.

"I can't believe you got freaking locked out of our own home, Alec!" Isabelle groaned. She flung the door open and Isabelle skittered back a few steps, all the blood draining from her face.

Jace was up in half a second. "What is it, Izzy? Who is it?" He was by her side in three long strides.

His eyes widened when he saw who was standing in the doorway.

 _Oh crap._

Jocelyn Fray stood in the threshold, glaring at Jace heatedly. Magnus stood behind Jocelyn, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled sheepishly at them.

"I come bearing gifts?" Magnus murmured.

"What are you guys doing here?" Isabelle said casually. Jace could hear the raising panic in Isabelle's voice.

Jocelyn glared at Isabelle and Jace.

 _Well, I'm a screwed dead man_ , Jace thought, fully accepting that fact.

"I was just about to ask you that question. Can you -?"

"Jace? Izzy? What's going on?"

Everyone froze, Jocelyn cutting off immediately.

 _By the Angel, this couldn't get any worse._

Clary was halfway down the stairs, her hair messy and her eyes looked sleepy.

"Who's that?" she inquired.

Jocelyn stumbled forward, gripping Isabelle's arm for support

"Clary? By the Angel," Jocelyn gasped, all the color draining from her face.

"Surprise?" Isabelle squeaked, looking half terrified and half uneasy.

 _Now_ Jace was a definite dead man.

 **A/N - Thanks for all the follows/views/favourites/reviews! You all are fantastic and I just want to squish you all in a big virtual hug! xxxx**


	22. Hell Hath No Fury

**Chapter 21 - Hell Hath No Fury**

Clary, once again, was awoken.

This time, by loud bangs that rang through the whole house. She glared at the ceiling, rolled over and screamed into her pillow.

"What does a girl need to do to get sleep around here?" she screamed in frustration. It probably sounded like "Whadesagirlnedtodotugetsleepaoundere?"

Another loud bang made Clary sit up in annoyance.

How thin were the walls in this house?

Clary got out of bed, all hopes of going back to sleep dashed. Then it hit her: _bed. Room. Pillow._

How did she get into her bed? The last thing she remembered was listening to Jace play the piano … He must have carried her back into bed.

She shut her room door behind her silently. Downstairs, the banging continued.

"Hey," Clary spun around and saw Colette's head peeping out of her room. Her hair was a tangled mess, a sleeping mask strapped to her forehead. She was wearing an almost translucent black night slip that reached the very skimpy top of her thighs. Her face was full of annoyance. "Could you ask them to keep it down? Some people are actually _trying_ to sleep."

For once, Colette had a completely ordinary American accent, her usual snobby French accent gone.

"Yeah," Clary said warily, baffled by her switch in accents. "I'll do that."

Colette smiled sarcastically in thanks before retreating back into her room and slamming the door. Clary rolled her eyes.

Halfway down the staircase, Clary could see that Jace and Isabelle were being confronted by a woman with fiery red hair and sharp features. She was wearing a light beige knitted turtleneck and a pair of what looked like Shadowhunter leather pants. A man with the most peculiar sense of fashion stood awkwardly behind her as he rubbed the back of his neck. He wore a glitterized jacket navy blue jacket, a neon orange shirt underneath and lime green skinny jeans.

"I was just about to ask you that question. Can you -" the red haired woman was saying, her voice dripping with anger.

"Jace? Izzy? What's going on?" she asked quietly.

Everyone seemed to freeze. The red haired woman's piercing green eyes stared into her own and for a moment, Clary got a piercing sense of recognition for this woman - where had she seen this woman before? - and it disappeared immediately.

"Who's that?" Clary asked, walking the final few steps until she was on solid floor again.

The woman stumbled forward, clutching Isabelle's arm, all the blood draining from her face. "Clary? By the Angel ..."

"Surprise?" Isabelle squeaked, looking enormously panicked.

"Oh my God, _Clary_?" the red haired woman shrieked.

She threw herself forward until she was a feet away from Clary. Startled, Clary took a surprised step backwards.

Now she was scared.

"I'm so sorry but do I know you?" Clary said, panicked. In the background, Clary saw Jace sigh softly, his head slightly bowed.

The glittery man narrowed his eyes at her until they were slits. "Jocelyn -" he began.

"Clary. I am your _mother_." she redheaded woman said, her eyes wide.

"I'm sorry. I don't know you."

" _Your mother._ " she cried. "Don't you remember me?" she asked softly, her eyes wide. Shakily, she raised one of her slender hands and placed it on Clary's cheek. Clary fought the urge to take the hand away from her cheek.

Her mother, she said? This was her real mother then? Clarissa Fairchild's mother? Her real one?

But how could she be her mother if Clary didn't remember her one bit? If she had never even seen this woman ever in her life? Yes, the resemblance of looks between herself and this woman was undeniable but she just didn't know her.

Clary raised her own hand and placed it over the woman's hand. Clary could see the beginning flickerings of hope. No. She didn't want to give this woman false hope. "I'm sorry," Clary said softly, taking her hand and who she assumed was Jocelyn's hand away from her cheek. "I don't know you. _I_ don't."

The moment those words were said, a scary flame lit in Jocelyn's eyes. It wasn't hope or even remotely close to the light of hope or heartbreak. This was _anger_ burning in her eyes.

Jocelyn whirled away from Clary, her fists clenched as she stalked forward towards Jace.

"What the _hell_ did you do to my daughter, you son of a bitch?" Jocelyn spit.

Jace was very still as he stared at Jocelyn head on.

"I didn't do anything to her," he said softly.

" _Liar_!" Jocelyn hissed.

Isabelle darted forward to stand in front of Jace. "Jocelyn - Mrs Fray or Garroway or whatever - Jace didn't do anything." she said, her palms out.

"There's no evidence or proof you can present to me that will make me believe you." Jocelyn said slowly, like she was talking to a child.

Jocelyn stopped when she was literally face to face with Isabelle though the brown haired girl stood slightly taller than her.

"Move, Isabelle." Jocelyn said.

"No."

"Move. I don't want to hit you. I have the hitting reserved for someone else."

"No. You must think I'm stupid of you think -"

"Move Izzy," Jace sighed softly. Isabelle turned around to look at Jace

"But -" Izzy protested.

Jace shot her a meaningful look that Clary couldn't decipher. Isabelle finally sighed and stepped aside. "Your funeral, Herondale." she muttered.

Jocelyn stopped in front of Jace, staring at the tall boy in the eye.

Faster than Clary's eye could follow, Jocelyn's hand flew up and slapped Jace across the face. The cracking sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed into her ears and Clary cringed, the sound as instant and loud as a thunderclap. Jace's head jerked violently to a side, his blond hair brushing into his eyes from the force of Jocelyn's slap.

She was very confused with the current situation and yet she felt a deep guilt in the pits of her stomach. For who, she didn't know.

Jocelyn gripped Jace's arms tightly and glared at him in the eye.

"What did you do to my daughter, Jace?" she choked.

Jace just stared down at Jocelyn. "I didn't do anything to her, Jocelyn." he said finally.

"Why don't I believe you, Jace? Why?" Jocelyn cried. Jace's right cheek was already beginning to redden slightly.

"I can explain if you let me." Jace said, almost begging.

"Explain what? You'll just twist the story and words up and mess with my head just like _him_. _Just like Valentine_! You've always had a knack for that, haven't you?" Jocelyn screamed. Jace visibly flinched, his jaw clenching.

"I'm not like him." he said through gritted teeth.

"Yes you are. You just don't see it." Jocelyn cried.

"I'm not like Valentine. I am a Herondale." Jace persisted.

"Maybe by blood but you had the upbringings of a vile Morgenstern." Jocelyn spat. "I really thought you were pure last year but all of it was a facade, wasn't it?"

"Jocelyn!" Isabelle screamed.

"You're just like him. Destroying, _corrupting_ every single thing you touch." Jocelyn hissed. Clary could see that Jace's hands was shaking as was his head as he shook it slowly.

"I'm not," he whispered.

"You are!"

"Jocelyn that is enough!" the glittery man boomed but Jocelyn didn't seem to have heard him.

"I'm not," Jace said again, shaking his head.

"All Morgenstern boys are the same. You destroyed my Clary!"

"I didn't! I'm not like Valentine!" Jace cried, sounding so broken, so desperate. Clary had had enough.

"Stop it! Stop saying those things! Just stop it!" Clary shrieked, making the whole room go quiet. Jocelyn whirled on Clary, releasing Jace who bowed his head, his hands shaking violently. His breathing was ragged and harsh, like he was breathing with a single punctured lung.

"Clary -" Jocelyn began. Suddenly, there was a flashing burst of green and Jocelyn's eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped to the floor, her red hair covering her face as she lied on the ground, unconscious.

The glittery man had his arm outstretched, his palm open and a grave look on his face. Isabelle darted over to where Jace's stationary figure was standing, as motionless as a marble statue - his hands had stopped shaking and we're now curled into tight fists - and his head still bowed. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder as she tilted her head underneath to look at him in the face.

"What the hell did I miss?" Clary turned around and saw Colette at the top of the stairs, looking at the scene in front of her with wide eyes. There was a slight French accent back in her voice but it was almost American. She had swapped her skimpy night slip for a pair of denim shorts and a loose tank top.

Clary didn't know what to say or how to say it. She just shook her head and slowly walked over to Jace.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

He looked up slowly, his breathing slowing down. The look in his eyes were haunted and broken and Clary felt a flash of raging anger for Jocelyn.

"I'm fine, Im fine," Jace said, his voice hollow.

"What happened to Jocelyn?" Clary asked, staring at the unconscious person on the floor.

"I momentarily subdued her. Things were beginning to get a little too heated." the glittery man said, stepping into the house.

"Thank you, Magnus." Jace said, real gratitude in his voice.

Magnus? Was this the famous Magnus that had … dated Evie once and was now dating Alec?

This close, Clary could see that he looked slightly Asian and had slitted pupils like a cat's. They were a bright orange and green, something you didn't see everyday.

"Don't thank me yet. I'm still debating whether I should kick your ass to next Friday - literally - or give you an extra neck - just the neck mind you. No head. You, have some serious explaining to do." Magnus said, all the while eyeing Clary like she was something that could disappear at any moment.

Jace nodded. "Let me just put Jocelyn in one of the rooms. Exactly how long while this … knockout spell last?"

"As long as I want it to which means averagely three days before I get too drained." Magnus answered, looking at his fingernails. "Which means, at any point if you annoy me or feed my bullshit before that, I can wake her up faster than Charming can kiss Sleeping Beauty awake."

"Great," Jace said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I could always wake Momzilla up now if you want," Magnus said, raising his hand.

"It's fine. Saves you the trouble if she stays asleep." Jace said casually, picking Jocelyn up in his arms like she weighed no more than ten pounds.

Gracefully, Jace bounded up the stairs, barely giving Colette a glance as he walked past by her. She glared at Jace as he walked away from her. Clary fought the urge to smile.

Isabelle led them into the living room. Clary sat beside Isabelle on one sofa while Magnus claimed a whole sofa to himself by stretching his long body onto it. His eyes never left Clary and it was starting to make her uncomfortable.

"My guess is that you don't know who the heck I am?" Magnus said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, not personally. Alec and Isabelle _have_ mentioned you." Clary said, shifting uncomfortably.

Magnus grinned. "How sweet of you, Isabelle. But on the other hand, I am _quite_ offended that you could forget someone as magnificent as me, biscuit, whether on your own accord or not."

"Biscuit?" Clary inquired.

"Believe me, I've called you that before." Magnus said, waving his hand. Clary watched in fascination as green and blue sparks cracked in between his fingers as he did so.

"Isabelle dear, where is my sweet pea?" Magnus asked, looking at Isabelle.

"He went on a global warming reducing morning walk," she muttered.

"What was that?" Magnus said, cocking his head to a side as if he couldn't hear.

"Nothing. He went on a morning run that's all." Isabelle said, shrugging.

Colette looked at Magnus with curiosity for a moment before heading into the kitchen.

Jace joined them a few seconds later, sitting on the single Victorian armchair.

"Let's hear it." Magnus said, looking at Jace intently.

"I took a short trip to see Jem in London and -"

Jace broke into the whole retelling of what happened since all of this started. He left out unimportant and unnecessary parts like the uncomfortable conversation about Magnus and Evie's relationship and Jace getting hurt when he returned home drunk that night and their late night musical session.

Halfway through, Alec returned home, looking flushed and sweaty.

His blue eyes zeroed in on Magnus's sprawled whose back was facing him. The blue eyes widened in shock. "Magnus?"

"Hold that sentence, Jace," Magnus had said. He had sat upright in a flash, a bright enthusiastic smile on his lips.

"Alec!" Magnus squealed. In the literal term, Magnus had pranced over to a shocked Alec and enveloped him into a glittery hug.

"What are you doing here?" Alec, trying to struggle out of Magnus's tight embrace. "Magnus, I'm sweaty and not particularly very comfortable. This is a very hot situation." he said, squirming.

"Hot it is." Magnus had said, pulling back. "Seriously, you look hot."

Alec had blushed a deep red, adding more color to his already flushed cheeks and had scurried upstairs to change.

"So that's that," Jace said now, leaning back into his chair. There was still a slight haunted look in his eyes.

"Hmm," Magnus mused. "Maybe I should give Evangelyn a visit, I haven't seen her in decades."

Alec shot him a murderous glare as he crossed his arms angrily. "Evie, Evie, Evie," Alec muttered spitefully, loud enough only for Clary, who sat closest to him, to hear.

"How did Jocelyn even know that we were here?" Isabelle asked, crossing her legs.

"You can blame your mother for that." Magnus said, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

"She _what_?" /iIsabelle shrieked, causing everyone to flinch.

"I _assume_ ," Magnus said, grinning. "All I know was that their conversation involved _a lot_ of screaming. And after they were done yelling, Jocelyn told me to take her home. I did and when I did, she packed some clothes and _demanded_ I take her to London."

"Couldn't you have said no?" Jace groaned.

" _Not_ if I wanted to live," Magnus said, like it was the most obvious thing on Earth.

" _She what_?" Isabelle said again, incredulous.

Magnus looked at Isabelle with an arched eyebrow.

"Well, shall we begin?" Magnus said, getting up.

"Begin what, exactly?" Simon said, getting up too.

"Well, with your amount of less than mediocre brain cells, I'm not surprised you haven't found anything. Give-" Magnus started but cut off when he saw a smiling Jace. "Why are you smiling?"

"Most of the reading and studying of those journals were done by Alec," Jace said in a _just-so-you-know_ voice.

Magnus visibly paled. "Well … of course you people haven't found anything! Letting my poor baby do _everything_ ," Magnus said, hugging Alec and caressing his hair gently.

"You're lucky I love you," Alec said, crossing his arms. A small involuntary smile lit his lips.

"So let me have a look at those journals." Magnus said, pulling away.

"They're on the dining table," Colette said, clutching a glass of water in one hand. She had come to stand next to Jace's chair … a little too closely.

" _Merci_ ," Magnus said, grinning.

" _Quoiqu'il en soit, fe brillant_ ," Colette said, rolling her eyes. Alec shot her a glare.

" _Dit silicon valley,_ " Magnus retorted, grinning. Jace and Isabelle burst out in laughter while Simon and Clary sat looking confused. Now, Clary wished she spoke French.

Colette looked like she was ready to kill. " _En vous savez tes gay, mais vous ne devriez pas tre jaloux de quelque chose que vous n'aurez jamais, ma cherie_ ," she said with fake sympathy, a sly smile on her face.

"That's it," Alec hissed, taking out a dagger. Magnus snapped his fingers once and Alec looked like he was glued to the floor, not being able to move.

" _Cherie, je suis Magnus Bane. Si vous me offrant ceux, vous devriez savoir que je n'accepte que les originaux._ " Magnus said, sounding uninterested. Colette's mouth opened, her eyes narrowed. A second later, she closed her open trap and her lips twitched into a small smile.

"Well played," Colette said, grinning.

" _Croyez-moi, le plaisir etait tout les mine,_ " Magnus said, bowing slightly.

"I don't doubt that," Colette said, the hard smile still on her lips.

"I could say that I enjoyed this argument but frankly, your topic was quite disturbing." Isabelle said, leaning back onto the sofa.

"Well, if you'll excuse, I have a few journals to sift through. C'mon, Alec." Magnus grabbed Alec's hand. The moment he did so, Alec was free and could walk.

Watching Alec go, Clary remembered Evie's house and the funny change in it.

"Isabelle, back at Evie's house, when I first saw it I saw something entirely different from what it looked like. Am I making sense?"

Isabelle laughed. "Yeah. It's quite simple actually. It's called a glamour. Most Shadowhunters and Downworlders use it to conceal what they and we really look like to mundanes. We can't go hunting demons for all the mundanes to see can we? Or have a bright blue skinned warlock walk down Madison Avenue for all the world to see. Only someone who is a Downworlder or has Shadowhunter blood can see through a glamour."

Clary nodded, remembering how the house had changed before her eyes.

"I'm going to go train. You wanna join me, Simon?" Isabelle said, getting up. Simon shrugged but followed Isabelle anyway.

Colette took a seat in the couch Magnus had inhabited, silently drinking her water. Her eyes watched Jace and occasionally Clary.

"Is it true? She's my real mother?" Clary said quietly after a while. Jace looked up at her, that haunted look returning to his eyes.

"Yes. I'm sorry that I didn't -"

"What did she mean of you breaking me? What was it about Morgenstern men?"

Jace shot a quick glance at Colette who was suspiciously concentrating too hard on her glass of water.

"Follow me," Jace said, grabbing Clary's wrist and pulling her to her feet.

Colette glared at the contact Jace's hand was making to Clary's hand. Feeling her heart pick up, Clary wriggled her wrist out of Jace's grip. Colette smiled a small smile, looking at Clary smugly over the rim of her glass as she sipped her water.

Jace looked back at her questioningly for a moment, his face faltering slightly. He shrugged it off and gestured with his head for her to follow him.

She followed him outside the house and into the garden. He walked towards the big tree the loomed over the side of the house as Jace took a deep breath which he seemed to pull to his toes.

"Are you okay?" Clary asked again. Jace looked like he was about to scream and yank all his hair out.

Jace took another deep breath, his tense shoulders slumping slightly. He turned and looked at Clary before looking away, like the sight of her hurt him.

"No, Clary, I'm not okay." he sighed, leaning back and resting his back against the trunk of the tree. He slid to the ground, crossing his long legs.

Hesitantly, Clary sat beside Jace, crossing her much shorter legs too. The grass was cool and wet underneath her, probably from a recent slight drizzle.

"What did she mean by Morgenstern men? I mean, Morgenstern _is_ my real family name, right?" Clary asked. Jace had his eyes closed and his face tilted upwards slightly, towards the light sunlight that hitting his face. He looked more like an angel than ever.

Not opening his eyes, Jace tilted his head towards her and spoke. "I haven't _always_ lived with Maryse and Robert. My real parents died when I was very young - almost before birth you could say," he said dryly, like it was funny yet despicable at the same time. "And until I was ten, I was adopted by a man of the Morgenstern name. Valentine Morgenstern."

"Who is he?"

"Was, would be the proper term. He's dead." Jace said.

" _Dead_? What happened?"

"That's simple really, more or less, you killed him." Jace said, shrugging. He had opened his eyes and was looking at her.

Clary felt herself pale. "I _killed him_? Your adoptive father? When?"

"Two years ago, give or take a few months." Jace said nonchalantly.

Clary blinked, horrified. She had killed a person. _Jace's adoptive father_. Guilt and horror washed over her.

"Jace, I am so sorry I -" Clary gushed.

She cut off when Jace stared at her incredulously. His eyebrows were scrunched in confusion. "What are you apologizing for?" he said, his voice as incredulous as his face.

"Jace, I _killed_ your father, adoptive or not he still was you dad. I -"

Jace surprised her by laughing. "Clary, _Clary_." Jace said, shaking his head as he laughed. "You killing him - more or less - was a favor. He was a dick, a zealot and just plain old mean. He bagged the Worst Father award ten years in a row."

"You hated him?" Clary said, feeling an ounce better. There was still the heavier part of her that reminded her she had killed a man.

" _Everyone_ hated him. He waged war on the Nephilim and killed countless Downworlders and Shadowhunters."

"Huh." Clary said, leaning back against the tree trunk. "He _does_ sound like an asshat."

An image of a fair haired man with cold eyes flashed through her thoughts and disappeared as soon as it appeared. She shivered at the hostility in his eyes.

Jace laughed quietly. "Your choice of insults never fail to amuse me."

Clary smiled ruefully. "So, did this Valentine know me? I'm suspecting he does seeing I killed him."

Jace visibly deflated, his smile wiping of his face. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I can handle it," Clary said, offering Jace a smile. He didn't return it.

"Valentine Morgenstern was your father."

Clary felt herself choke on her own saliva. " _What?_ "

"I asked if you could handle it and you said yes." Jace said.

"But - I ..." Clary was at a lost for words. "I killed my own dad?"

"Believe me, if you had met him, you'd hate him too." Jace said. "He destroyed everything he touched and was a violent man who did everything and anything to get whatever he wanted." Jace laughed dryly. He opened his mouth, about to say something but Clary cut him off.

"That wasn't fair of what she said to you. You're not like that." Clary said quietly.

Jace scoffed. "How would you know? You don't remember _anything_ so you wouldn't really know would you? I've done _so many_ cruel things in my life you'd be surprised." Jace said, all the while a cold smile on his lips. "What would _you_ know? Or remember? So I don't expect you to understand."

Clary narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm trying, okay?" she said harshly. Jace looked at her questioningly. "I know that I'm not the Clary you knew or whatever, that wouldn't understand all your war stories and all your problems but I'm _trying_ , Jace."

"I -" Jace started but Clary held one finger up.

"Let me finish you arrogant assface." she spat. "Yeah, I don't remember but I'm _trying_. So don't treat me like some naive four year old that doesn't understand shit. And I _do_. Somehow. To a certain extent. Sometimes I get these … look, when I first saw you, you weren't a _total_ stranger. I don't know where I had see you but then I -"

Suddenly, sitting seemed tiring and Clary had to stand. She brushed the wet grass and dirt off her pants and glared at Jace. He had a shocked and calculating look on his face.

"How?" he asked.

"I have dreams, Jace. Before this, I never knew what the _hell_ they meant. It was always the same reoccurring thing - the same symbol, the same war … the same blond boy by the lake ..." Clary sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"You get dreams?" Jace said quietly.

"Sometimes," Clary said, looking down at the wet, slightly slippery grass underneath her feet. She sighed, running another hand through her hair. "I better go inside, see what I can do to help."

"Clary -" Jace started.

As Clary turned to leave, Jace's hand shot out to grab her wrist as he yanked her back. She felt herself slip on the wet grass and fall back. She yelped in surprise.

 _I hate my luck_ , Clary thought as she fell backwards.

She waited for the painful impact of her backside hitting the ground but it never came. Instead, she felt herself fall into someone.

Jace.

 _Oh my God of all the things?!_

Their faces were inches apart from each other, close enough that Clary could feel Jace's breath on her cheek. His golden eyes burned into her own. She felt her hands go weak and sweaty.

Clary noticed the slight ache in her legs at the awkward position she had fallen in. Sadly, she hadn't fallen in one of those perfect lover's embrace where the girl's legs where neatly and gracefully swung across the boy's other lap while she sat on the other while her arms were wrapped around the boy's neck. Not that she was aiming for that … intimate position but her current one was extremely uncomfortable.

Her legs were bent outwards, away from each other and were no way on Jace's lap. One arm was braced against Jace's shoulder while the other one hung awkwardly at her side.

"Um … sorry." Clary said awkwardly. She tried to scramble off Jace but froze when she felt his hand clamp on her waist, sending tingling feelings radiating through her body.

Jace laughed quietly, his chest rumbling. The sound was warm and light, making Clary's heart flutter and her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies. How cliche.

"Why are you apologizing? Look, _I'm_ sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have assumed that you weren't trying and I'm just -" Jace sighed. "I'm sorry."

Clary smiled. "At least you have the decency to apologize."

Jace laughed and then just looked at her. He caught a stray lock of her red hair in between his thumb and forefinger, tucking it gently behind her ear.

A sudden smile appeared on his lips and he shook his head slightly, his eyes still trained on her hair.

"What?" Clary asked leaning back for a better look at Jace. She was still hyper aware that she was perched on his lap but she pushed that awkwardness away.

Jace looked at her and smiled.

"Would it be a terrible wrong if I wanted to kiss you so badly now?" he murmured.

Clary's body locked down in shock.

What? Had he said ... _what_?

Clary didn't get to answer because the next thing she knew was that Jace had wrapped his arm around her waist, the other one cupping her cheek as he brought his lips down on hers.

The first thing Clary thought was: _Is this really happening?_

Then the next thing Clary knew was that she had fluttered her eyes closed and her arms had gone to wrap around Jace's neck, holding him closer. His lips were soft and comfortable against hers, molding and fitting perfectly with hers.

But the one thing Clary couldn't shake was that how _familiar_ this was.

It was like she had kissed Jace so many times before. Clary felt Jace's slight smile against her lips and she returned the smile.

Euphoria filled her and there was a slight warm electrical zing between that made Clary's heart gallop in her heart. Her fingers twined in his hair that felt soft under her fingertips. Heat coursed between them and Clary swore she could have passed out from it. It was like an adrenaline junkie standing at the edge of a cliff about to jump. It was electrifying.

Jace kissed her with a sort of gentle urgency, like he didn't want to hurt her but he wanted to kiss her as much as he could like it was the last time he could. The blood pounded in her ears as well as a slight ringing sound that got annoying after a while.

Clary pulled back for a breath, laying her forehead on Jace's shoulder. Her breathing was heavy, a smile etched on her face.

"Whoa," Clary breathed, her arms still wrapped around Jace's neck.

"I could say sorry but I'm not." he said and Clary could hear the smile in his voice.

And this time, it was Clary's turn to kiss Jace.

Again, heat coursed through Clary's veins but this time, there was a slight ringing in her ears. Even when her eyes closed, she. could see there was flash of bright light.

Jace pulled away and a look of shock crossed his face. There was the sound of breaking glass, making Clary turn her whole body around.

"What in Raziel's name?" Jace said, his eyebrows furrowing.

One of the windows had shattered outwards, the glass scattered across the lawn. Clary scrambled to her feet, Jace joining her in a heartbeat. He took out a seraph blade, quickly naming it _Nakir_. They ran towards the house, all the while, Jace holding her hand.

When they stepped into the house, Jace released her hand to fan away the collecting gray smoke, his other hand still clutching the seraph blade.

They made their way to the kitchen, the burnt sugar smelling smoke curling around in the air around Clary and Jace. Someone coughed and Isabelle bumped into them, her eyes watering from the smoke.

"Magnus," she said, her teeth gritted.

Jace rolled his eyes and headed into the dining room.

"Please tell me you haven't blown up the journals." Jace groaned, sliding the seraph blade back into it's sheath.

"I didn't. In fact, I think you'll thank me for this." Magnus said, pride in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Jace said.

"The books were cast with a concealment spell so basically all you guys have been reading was basic mundane rubbish." Magnus said enthusiastically. "I thought something looked funny so I cast a spell that took of any forms of Blocks or glamours or spells and everything turned into Shadowhunter talk."

"So that caused the explosion?"

"No. That happened because Isabelle was cooking and I was trying to put the fire out." Magnus said, shrugging.

"I thought you were training?" Jace said, looking at his sister.

"I got bored." she said grudgingly, crossing her arms.

Magnus reached behind him and grabbed one of the journals. He held it out to Clary who warily took it.

"You should start with this." Magnus said. "You'll understand better."

Clary looked at the journal. The leather cover now had the angelic rune on the front.

She would finally be getting some answers.

 **A/N - Hello my lovelies! Yay! The much awaited Clace kiss scene is here! What did you guys think of it? And what did you think of Jocelyn's reaction?**


	23. The Burden of Truth

**Chapter 22 - The Burden of Truth**

Clary stared at the journal which sat on her lap, patiently waiting to be opened.

It was almost noon now and Magnus had finally finished recovering the kitchen. For the last hour, she had stared at the journal, not opening it - just staring at it.

At first she had been eager to read what was written in the journal but as she sat down, Clary found herself afraid of what she would find in the journal.

She sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest, trapping the book in between her legs and chest. She gently balanced the book on her knees and leaned her forehead on the book.

"Ugghhh." Clary groaned. She somehow couldn't muster up the guts to open the journal and read whatever was in it.

 _Just read it. Shut up and read it_ , her subconscious growled at her, face palming her subconscious self.

"You know, that isn't classified as reading." a voice said suddenly.

Clary looked up and saw Magnus lounging in the couch across her, his glitterized hair mussed and messy. She sighed.

"Can't you just tell me what you read?" she said, her voice hopeless.

" _You_ should read it. There are some personal things in there." he said, arching an eyebrow.

"Yet you read it," she sighed.

She fished around in her newly changed jeans (it had gotten a little chilly for shorts) and found the folded picture she had taken from her old house.

She unfolded the picture and stared at it. It was one of the only pictures she had of them together - her mother, Keayla, had never been a fan of framing photos.

It was a simple photo of them sitting in Hyde Park, taken by a helpful passerby. There was nothing special about the picture. It hadn't been a special day or a celebration. But it was just a very normal not normal day at the park. Keayla had never dragged Clary outside for no reason so her dragging Clary to the park on a normal day was such an unusual thing to do.

They sat on a park bench, the sky behind them graying, a sign of rain. Clary was smiling like how all people should smile in pictures but Keayla was only half smiling, her eyes sharp and bored.

 _Yeah … that's mom_ , she sighed mentally.

"Clary," Magnus said, getting up. His voice was alarmed as he strode over to her.

"What?" she said, alarmed as well.

Magnus took the photo in her hands and flipped it over. She stared at the the back of the photo which was filled with words written in familiar spidery cramped cursive handwriting.

"Oh my God," Clary breathed. She ran a finger across the writing.

She read the neat writing and felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill.

 _ **Clary,**_

 _ **I'm sorry. If you're reading this, you probably already found out you're not who you are. You wouldn't be able to see through this glamour if you didn't. And it probably also means I'm dead. Lovely.**_

Clary laughed quietly at her mother's depressing humor.

 _ **I wish I could explain further in person but I can't. I'm dead. But I have left something that may explain better. I have hidden some of my old journals around in my room. They should explain why I did what I did. I was never meant to care for you. Just look after. You were never mine to love and I didn't have the right to. But what can I say? I'm weak. And you were too lovable to say no to.**_

At this point, Clary was bawling, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. What did she mean 'Just look after'? Pulling herself together, she continued reading, her fingers clutching the picture tightly.

 _ **So, as my first and last gift to you, and in hope you can ever forgive me, I have found a way to restore your memories. You would've been amused. In the basement of the house, you'll find a leather book. Read it and you'll get your memories back. I'm so sorry, Clary. Tell that to the Herondale boy too.**_

 _ **Truly, sincerely sorry.**_

In the corner underneath those words, her mother had scrawled her signature and the words ' _ave atque vale_ '.

She hugged the photo to her chest, crying over it. She could feel Magnus watching her but that didn't stop her from falling apart.

"Um … are you okay?" Magnus said uncomfortably.

"I got to s-sh-show this to J-Ja-Jace." she stuttered, sniffling. She got up and realized she had no idea where he was.

"Training room. A right after the kitchen." Magnus said, reading her lost expression. Clary mumbled a thanks and shot off towards the kitchen.

She followed Magnus's directions and came to a room with its door half open, light from the inside spilling into the dark hallway.

"Right? I mean ..." a soft voice said, floating out of the room.

"But this is ridiculous. How could ..." another voice retorted. Clary knocked on the door and stepped in, looking around.

The training room was enormous, safe to say. It was probably the biggest room in the whole house. A few wooden posts sat in the middle of the room and Jace was perched on top of one, reading one of the notes they had found. Clary saw just the slight design of a pentagram on the back of the paper he was reading. Alec was sitting on the floor and leaning against the wooden post Jace was sitting on, sifting through a few of his own notes.

On the far left side of the room was a line of hung targets for knife throwing or shooting. The right side was just a bunch of raised platforms of varying heights.

Jace and Alec looked up at the exact same time. Jace smiled before noticing the puffy red eyes and tears stained cheeks.

He hopped off the wooden post and was in front of Clary in seconds. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly. In other situations, Clary would have found it sweet but she was way past noticing his tiny caring gestures at the moment.

She handed the photo to Jace to read. He looked at it in confusion.

"What am I looking at?" he said, turning the photo over and over.

Clary's eyebrows furrowed. "You can't see it?" she said, taking the photo from him. The writing was still there.

"What's _it_?" he said.

"My mom, she left a letter for me. It's written at the back." she said in confusion.

"Maybe only you can see it." Jace said, shrugging.

"But Magnus could see it. He spotted it first." she said.

Jace's eyebrows furrowed. "Read it for me."

Taking a deep breath, she read what her mother had written. She could feel the tears pooling again and halfway through, the tears spilled over. She couldn't even see the words properly anymore.

 _I'm going to break_ , Clary thought.

But she didn't break. Two strong arms wrapped around her, holding herself together for her. She didn't have to look to know it was Jace. She sobbed silently into his shirt, fisting her hand in it. The tears fell down her cheeks but tpage didn't make a sound.

Clary inhaled the scent of soap and what Clary could only describe as sunlight that clung to him. He stroked her hair gently as the tears slowly dried up.

She pulled away after a moment and read the rest of what was written on the photo.

"I have found a way to restore your memories. You would've been amused. In the basement of the house, you'll find a red leather book. Read it and you'll get your memories back. I'm so sorry, Clary. Tell that to the Herondale boy too. Truly, sincerely sorry." Clary said, blinking away tears.

Jace had his jaw set and his arms crossed. Alec was looking at them, looking out of place and uncomfortable.

"Basement?" Clary said incredulously. Only now had that fact sunk in. "I didn't know we had a basement."

"Then I suggest we get to your house, hunt for that basement and get your memories back." Jace said, his face emotionless.

"I'll go tell the rest." Alec said, leaving Clary and Jace.

Jace was staring at the floor, his hair falling into his eyes. He didn't look like he was going to talk to Clary anytime soon.

She sighed, turned away and walked out of the training room.

Clary stared at the razed blackened wreckage of what used to be her home.

The whole house had been razed to the ground, the whole plot a charred black piece. Occasionally, there were broken pieces of either wood or metal sticking out from the ground.

Jace swore colorfully, his teeth gritted as the endless stream of profanities left his mouth. From the corner of her eyes, she thought she saw Jace's skin glow slightly.

"By the Angel," Isabelle breathed.

"Crap. What the hell?" Alec muttered, a stream of quiet curses spewing from his mouth. He took out his stele and a pieces of paper. He walked away, his profanities growing softer as he walked further away.

Slowly, Clary approached the blackened land, kicking aside an unrecognizable piece of wood that could've been a doorway or a furniture. Ash flew up into the air from the slight disturbance as Clary walked. Somewhere in the background, Jace was still swearing though he had changed languages. She looked around, slight horror still in her as she remembered the once standing house. Jace knelt down a few feet away from her, brushing away the ash with his hand. Clary suspected that he was swearing in French.

"It was not a normal fire. There's a magic signature in the air." Magnus said, his face grim and not pleased.

"Is it demonic magic or your sparkly fairy glitter magic?" Jace questioned.

"One, I don't know. Two, I don't do _sparkly fairy glitter Disney_ magic. I do powerful and, occasionally, illegal warlock magic."

Jace rolled his eyes, trudging forward. His boots sent puffs of ash up as he walked. Clary watched in an almost detached interest as the ashes danced in the air before slowly drifting to the ground again.

Colette looked around in disgust, trying to walk as daintily as she could as so not to disturb the ash.

"This area here stinks badly of the magic signature. It probably started here." Magnus said, his face contorted like he smelled a bad, foul thing.

Jace narrowed his eyes on something, like he had spotted a chunk of gold. He bent down onto one knee and started brushing the ash away with one hand. A chunk of something that was the size of Clary's feet was brushed away by Jace. On a closer inspection, Clary could see that it was a piece of the discounted green Persian carpet that had been in the guest room.

Jace kicked aside something solid and stepped back. Clary, Magnus and Simon gathered around Jace and stared at the same gaping black hole in the floor.

It was average half a meter long and wide and Clary couldn't see the bottom.

Clary couldn't exactly see what was down there in general but Clary suspected that it was the basement she never knew this house had. Jace fished around in his pockets and took out a smooth rock looking object.

"A witchlight rune stone." he said as a matter of a factly. It lit up, the bright light spilling from in between his fingers and into the dark hole.

Jace shined the rune stone into the dark hole. Clary could finally see the ground of the basement. It was about three to four meters deep from where she was standing. Everything was also charred to black perfection down there.

"Definitely where it started." Magnus muttered.

"Okay, who played with the matches?" Simon said, kicking a piece of wood out of his way.

"Who the - " Clary winced at the swear word that flew harshly out of Jace's mouth. " - played with the bloody matches?" he asked incredulously. "You did _not_ just ask the most _stupidest_ question known to man."

Jace was clutching a seraph blade and he was waving it around rather dangerously. "Yes, I guess a bunch of five year olds thought playing with _matches_ in a house that wasn't theirs would be fun. I guess, to someone who has the sense of fun of a dead fish, that would the _epitome_ of fun." Jace gushed, glaring at Simon.

There was a sudden fiery flare from the hand that Jace was using to clutch the seraph blade.

Isabelle and Colette gasped in shock and Jace dropped the seraph blade as if the weapon burned him. On the hilt of the seraph blade, there were dark scorch marks in the shape of Jace's hand holding the seraph blade.

It was Clary's turn to gasp softly.

Jace didn't look at her or anybody. He was staring at the seraph blade, his eyes wide and horrified.

Alec returned, walking up to Jace.

"What? What are you guys looking at?" Alec said, unaware of the burnt seraph blade. Could you burn a seraph blade?

"Alec," Isabelle hissed. She pulled Alec aside and muttered something very quickly in his ear. Alec's blue eyes widened, finally falling on the burned seraph blade.

"By the Angel, Jace." Alec muttered.

"I thought I had it under control." Jace whispered.

"You were mad. You don't exactly have it on a leash when you're angry," Alec said, putting a hand on Jace's shoulder. "Just calm down, Jace."

"We were so close, Alec." he said, his teeth gritted.

Jace sighed, bent down and picked up the seraph blade before hooking into his belt.

"Guys, we should … get back home. I fire messaged mom and she said we should get back to New York by the latest of tomorrow night. It's not safe anymore. Someone has our work cut out for us." Alec said grudgingly. "There's nothing here anyway."

Taking one last look at the charred land, Clary turned and followed Isabelle. Jace looked like he was an anguished statue of an angel amongst the charred remains with his head bowed slightly.

A beauty amongst the destruction.

"Jace," Clary called quietly. His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. He shook his head as if to clear it before stuffing his hands inside his pockets. He made no move to follow her or go anywhere near her.

Knowing he would never move unless there was at least a ten feet distance between him and everyone, Clary turned and walked away, watching ash puff up from her boots as she walked.

She found it quite amusing the the layer of ash was so easily disturbed … so fragile.

Soon, the house disappeared behind a corner. Isabelle walked a few feet in front of her, Alec by her side. She was barely paying attention to them as the bigger part of her mind was trained on two things.

One: The only way she could ever get her memories back was gone in a poof of ashes.

Two: Jace could produce fire.

She wasn't sure she was shaken more by which one but both seemed to be quite significantly big.

She remembered the scorch mark on Jace's seraph blade and his words: " _I though I had it under control._ "

She tried not to think of it, she didn't want to be scared of Jace. Instead, she distracted herself with her surroundings.

They were walking in an area lined with shops, boutiques and bodegas, some closed for lunchtime. A few were bustling with business, customers walking in and out of the shops. The way they walked and did things told Clary that they didn't have much trouble or worry in their lives. They were all shielded - protected - from the real truth that she was living in. They didn't have to frequently worry if a demon was going to pop out and kill you or have your life snatched away at any time or if the person next to you was a vampire or werewolf or demon.

A flash of white in one of the closed bodegas caught her attention. She stared into the dark shop intently, looking for the going of white. Somehow, it intrigued her so much.

"Clary!" Isabelle called.

Clary realized she had been staring at the bodega for a long time.

Isabelle clapped her hand onto her shoulder and Clary saw the burnt wreckage behind her eyelids and the flash of a symbol behind her eyelids. She felt a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness wash over her.

Her vision went fuzzy like the static on a television and Clary felt herself tilt sideways. She reached out blindly for Isabelle but found nothing.

"Isa ..." she started but her mouth felt heavy and glued shut.

She blacked out before her head could even hit the floor.

Clary emerged from a hazy void, to find herself lying in her bed. She turned her head to a side and saw Magnus sitting in the chair beside her bed, looking at her intently.

"What the hell?" she groaned. Honestly, she felt like crap. Her head was pounding and there was an annoying ringing in her head.

"You, my dear biscuit passed out in the streets of London." Magnus said, looking bored, like Clary was a show that had rerun one two many times.

"Why?" she groaned.

"You tell me." Magnus said. She felt something light and flat flop onto her stomach. She sat up slightly, propping herself on her elbows and saw that one of the journals lied on her stomach. "Read it," Magnus said, getting up.

Clary pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard of her bed, picking up the journal.

Taking a deep breath, she flipped to the first page and began reading her mother's spidery cramped handwriting.

 _2nd August, 2008_

 _I've decided to keep a progress journal. It may come in handy._

 _I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Kidnapping a girl, pretending to be her mother … Clarissa seems to be getting along with this situation nicely. She was slightly confused at first but she shook it off, thank the Angel._

 _Cartwood warned me about Clarissa's … mental situation and I've been on edge for the last eight hours, waiting for that girl to drop dead or something. She has been mostly passive the whole day, curled up into sad ball. I expected something more interesting, honestly. I have go frequently remind myself that I'm doing this for a greater cause._

Clary skimmed the rest of the page, biting her lip. This seemed like such a much different person compared to the woman she knew.

She flipped a few pages, starting another entry dated a few days after the first one.

 _6th August, 2008_

 _Clarissa had her first of what Cartwood warned would be many panic attacks. She woke up screaming for her parabatai and Valentine's second son. I refuse to say his name. I think she forgot about it afterwards. She was just badly shaken. Going over the experiment notes, I found something funny hidden within the formulas. Something I was missing out on. I think Cartwood is keeping something from me._

Under the words, Keayla had scrawled a series of numbers, symbols and runes in red ink. Clary traced them with a fingernail, sighing.

For the next hour, Clary read the words of her mother, her eyebrows furrowed as she did. At certain points, Clary forgot that she was reading the words of Keayla Ashworth, her mother who found politics violent, who found fights repulsive and stupid and violence a loose, worthless cause. Most of the words and topics in the journal were fueled by violence and anger.

Deeper into the journal, Clary realized that the writing patterns changed slowly. Instead of _Clarissa_ , her mother began to write _Clary_. The words _hatred_ and _loathing_ were replaced frequently with _sadness_ and _grief_. It had changed in terms of writing and cause.

A particular entry intrigued Clary, making her sit up straighter and lean in closer.

 _28th August, 2008_

 _I finally found Evangelyn after all these years. She didn't recognize me at first but later on she did. I begged her for help. The Angel knows Clary is getting worse. Cartwood_ _ **has**_ _been lying all this while. She never meant for Clary to live. But the ritual won't work without her...giving me another mystery to answer. The seizures and nightmares are only getting worse. I'm afraid they may kill her or worse, drive her mentally insane._

 _Evangelyn has agreed to help me in concealing Clary and myself. We're moving to a more secluded area in London, to an average double storey terrace. Evangelyn will make Clary forget the move so it won't be much difference for her. It's for her own good._

 _I hope that Cl_

The sentence ended mid word, leaving the sentence dangling in thin air. Clary looked at it in confusion, looking at the half written word. She closed her eyes for a moment, processing everything she had read.

They moved? From where? Clary had no recollection of it at all. And Clary pondered over two people named Taylor and Cartwood that were frequently mentioned in the journal. Were they male or female? And finally, Clary let the fact that her mother iwas /iinvolved in those vile experiments and rituals. She felt bile and anger and horror rise in her throat and decided just to carry on reading.

It continued in the next line and the writing was sloppy and smudged, making it hard for Clary to read.

 _Every scream that comes out of her mouth reminds me of Taylor. Clary just had another nightmare-come-panic attack and it kills me to see her scream. Makes me question what type of human I am._

Clary scanned each page with adamance, determined to find something that could help her current situation. She didn't want to linger to long on the parts about her suffering - those were dark days that she didn't want to relive.

 _3rd September, 2008_

 _Cartwood's mind is absolutely brilliant. Sadistic and twisted, but brilliant. Cartwood showed me a piece of that brilliance and I am awed. Cartwood's ideas on how to improve the rituals and experiments are truly breathtakingly brilliant._

Clary furrowed. In the last few entries, her mother had wrote about abandoning Cartwood - who she now suspected was a man - and ditching the experiments but now she was writing about listening to this Cartwood on how to improve the rituals.

 _I haven't across a mind that wonderful ever. Sadly, the experiments are still failing badly and it's killing me to see so many children die. If only -_

Clary's head snapped up at the sound of her bedroom door creaking open. It was open slightly and Jace's head peaked through the small gap.

"You okay?" he murmured.

"I'm fine," she said, shrugging. She hated to say this but she was slightly wary of Jace now that she knew he was a human torch.

Clary put the journal on the bedside table as Jace walked over to her.

He sat at the end of her bed, as far away from her as her bed allowed.

"What happened back there? You passed out _again_." Jace said, his long hair falling into his eyes.

"I don't know. I guess I was just overwhelmed, I guess." Clary said, lying. She knew exactly why she had passed out. She just didn't want to say it. She would sound crazy.

They sat in silence, both not really knowing what to say.

"So … you, um, have fire powers?" Clary said awkwardly after a long moment of silence, looking at Jace's hands.

Jace snorted. "I wish it was as simple as that. No, it's not _exactly_ fire. It's Heavenly Fire." Jace said, looking at his palms.

"Heavenly Fire as in ...?"

"The Fire that Moses saw on the bush. The burning bush that wasn't really burning?" Jace said, raising his eyebrow.

"I know that. I'm not stupid." Clary said, rolling her eyes. "So, um, do _all_ Shadowhunters have Heavenly Fire?"

"No. Just me." Jace said, a small smile on his lips. "So, sometimes - rarely though nowadays - when I get too mad or stressed or things get too heightened, I lose control of it and things happen. I burn things or turn them to ashes." Jace said casually, looking up at Clary through incredibly long eyelashes. His eyes burned into hers with a mocking look. She met it head on, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them.

"If you're trying to scare me away, it's not going to work." she informed him just as casually.

"I don't see how it _isn't_ working." Jace said. "I'm dangerous even if I have it under control most of the time. I can hurt _you_."

"You haven't yet and even if you do you're not gonna get rid of me." Clary said, smiling.

Jace didn't say anything, his eyes cast downwards.

"So, are you always hot? What with the Fire inside you?" Clary asked.

Jace looked up, a smile on his face. "Of _course_ I'm always _hot._ I have these looks for a reason." Jace said, grinning.

Clary rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Well, warm. I've gotten used to it. When the Fire first entered me, I felt like I was being boiled alive. Then it died down to hot then now warm. I barely notice it's there. It's like how you don't notice the warm blood in your veins. But on the plus side for me, I don't ever have to worry of dying of hypothermia or freezing to death. The Fire crosses out all possibilities of dying from anything related to cold."

"So, besides it being a natural body heater, what else can you use it for?"

"Fighting." Jace said, smiling like that fact pleased him a lot. "Heavenly Fire is much more effective than seraph blades. They can't touch it at all whereas they can withstand contact with seraph blades to a certain extent. Originally, Shadowhunters wanted to trap Heavenly Fire into blades but that was impossible as there was no way to summon the Fire so they just settled for seraph blades. There's a little Shadowhunter history for you."

"So you're a weapon yourself?"

"I am _the_ most powerful weapon." Jace said, a cocky smile on his lips.

"How'd you get the Fire inside of you?"

"You could say I came into contact with something containing Heavenly Fire." Jace said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Clary said, shrugging.

"When you woke up in the infirmary the other day, why did you scream when you saw me?" Jace asked. "You looked like you were scared of me."

Clary shifted uncomfortably. What could she say? Should she lie?

"You can tell me," Jace said, stroking her cheek gently.

"Well, I _was_ scared of you." Clary admitted.

Clary could only describe the look on Jace's face as self hatred.

"It wasn't you. It was my dreams. For a while, honestly, they painted you as a monster to me. I had dreams of you killing me, stalking me, torturing me," Clary shivered as she remembered one of the nightmares.

"I'd never do that to you." he said confidently though it sounded like he was trying to convince not only Clary but himself as well.

"I know. You're nothing like that. I know." she said.

And the next thing she knew, she was pressed against her bed with Jace's lips pressed against hers.

Her eyes fluttered shut and that unshakeable sense of familiarity returned. Heat flooded her entire body and she gasped like she had been given a shot of cold water in the middle of a desert.

Her fingers fisted in Jace's soft hair, tugging at it gently. They tickled her fingertips, feeling like satin.

"I really should stop attacking you like this." Jace murmured against her lips.

"I don't mind." Clary murmured, pressing her lips against his again.

"Clary, Alec said to - "

Jace sprang apart from her at the sound of the voice, his face flushed and his hair tousled.

Colette stood in the doorway, her face red but not in embarrassment. In anger.

"Alec said to start packing. We're leaving in an hour." she spat through gritted teeth. "You can tell that to your two timing two faced jerkface."

Colette slammed the door harshly, making Clary flinch. She was so dead.

"What did she mean by that?" Clary asked quietly, looking at Jace.

"I don't know," he said. His eyes were narrowed and not very happy. He leaned down for a quick peck on the lips and a gentle caress of the cheek before getting up from the bed.

"I'm going to go pack. See you in an hour." he murmured, closing the door behind him.

Clary groaned, flinging herself onto her bed. What did Colette mean?

She sighed, pulling herself out of bed to pack.

 _Jace, please don't be doing what I think you're doing_ , Clary thought, sighing.

 **A/N - So what do you guys think so far?**

 **Also, I am truly sorry but this will be the last update for a while as I'm going to York with my family for a few days. Sorry! Have a nice week end I'll be back uploading as usual on Monday (possibly Tuesday)!**


	24. The Look of the Guilty

**A/N - Surprise! I'm back earlier than I thought! Enjoy! :D**

 **Chapter 23 - The Looks of the Guilty**

 _If looks could kill._

That was a phrase Clary would never take as just a quote ever again.

The dagger glares that Colette was shooting at her from across the room looked like it could melt glass. Clary shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, pretending to be very interested in the shimmering almost transparent Portal that appeared a few feet in front of her.

Magnus stepped back, looking at the newly made Portal."Sweet pea first." Magnus said, bowing. Alec rolled his eyes but went through anyway. Clary looked to her left where Jocelyn was now awake but looking slightly grog

gy. Her eyes were trained on Clary and occasionally looked away to shoot dagger glances at Jace who was reserved as he stared at his stele that he was twirling with one of his long had woken her up and before she could choke the living lights out of Jace, Magnus had threatened to knock her out again and put a Block on her mind so she would forget what hap

pened in London. Jocelyn had immediately shut up after that but she had kept a constant watchful eye on Clary.

But she didn't only have two eyes - Jocelyn and Colette's - on her. She had three.

Occasionally, Jace would look at her through a sideway glance. He wasn't as conspicuous in his staring as Jocelyn and Colette but Clary felt his gaze the most - like it was a breath of heat all over her.

So naturally, when Jace started walking towards her, his eyes set like a predator's, her heart picked up and her palms started getting slightly damp with sweat.

 _You can tell that to your two timing two faced jerkface._

Colette's words echoed in her head harshly and she tried to shake it off. She refused to think of that in a negative way. Colette could've been lying.

"Clary?" Jace's voice pulled her out of her reverie.

"Hmm?" she said, looking up at him.

His eyes were troubled, making the already present ball in her throat grow.

"You ready to go?" Jace said, pushing long, curly hair out of his golden eyes.

"Hmm." Clary said in a _yes_ , trying to ignore the glares Colette was giving her at the moment.

"Are you okay?" Jace asked.

Clary almost said no but she forced a yes out of her mouth, offering Jace a small timid smile which he clearly didn't believe at all.

"Jocelyn," Magnus called. Rigidly, Jocelyn got up and stiffly walked over to the Portal, her hands balled into tight fists.

She stood in front of the Portal, glaring at it before throwing a quick glance at Clary before stepping through. Peeking from under Jace's arm, she watched as Jocelyn's figure was swallowed by the Portal. Clary see that Isabelle had already gone through.

"Shall we?" Jace said, gesturing towards the Portal.

Clary nodded, looking at the shimmering outline of the Portal.

She didn't particularly enjoy going through Portals - something bad was always happening when she went through a Portal.

The first time, she had been half dead. The second time, she was spit out rudely and thrown onto bitter hard concrete. What was going to happen the next time? Was she going to be thrown into another dimension? Torn in half by some rift in between _here_ and _there_?

Clary suddenly felt a warm hand on the small of her back. Her back went absolutely rigid as she tried to avoid contact with Jace whose hand seemed stuck to her back. She thought she heard a growl.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and stepped into the Portal.

The floor disappeared from under Clary and she felt herself tumbling - tumbling through and downwards what felt like an endless, light oblivion. Her scream caught in her throat but before Clary could release it, she felt the suction in the air around her tighten and she was thrown out of the Portal.

Clary landed painfully on her knees with her hands bracing her upper body from falling forward, her red hair bouncing in every direction, covering most of her face. Jace appeared beside her and gingerly helped her to her feet.

"Thanks," she groaned, feeling the stinging sensation in her palms and knees.

A loud screech of a profanity rang through the room from no where before Clary suddenly felt herself being tackled by what felt like a dried cement covered two by four with a twelve horsepower engine. Her head snapped back painfully by force as she was pushed to the ground.

"What the hell?" Clary screamed, seeing Colette on top of her.

A second later, Clary felt and heard her head crack painfully against the floor, making her cry out in pain. She heard a sudden sharp smack of flesh against flesh before a searing pain blossomed on her right cheek.

"You _bitch_!" Colette screamed, grabbing a fistful of Clary's hair and yanking.

Clary's blood pounded painfully in her ears and her heart raced.

 _Was Colette crazy?_

On an unknown instinct, Clary brought her knee up hardly, hitting Colette on the thigh. Colette cried out before continuing to yank Clary's hair and delivering another harsh slap. One of Colette's hands dug painfully into Clary's side. She tried to pry those nails away but Colette didn't lessen the force she was using.

There was a commotion all around Clary.

Horrified gasps, screaming, scolding and shuffling surrounded her. Then there was also Colette's enraged cries.

"You selfish _bitch_!" she hissed.

Clary brought her hand up and dragged her nails across Colette's white, smooth unmarked left cheek. She had originally meant to slap her but she missed.

Clary felt Colette being lifted off her and saw that Jace had hooked his arms under Colette's shoulders and was yanking the thrashing girl up.

Colette stamped hard on Jace's foot and kicked him in the shin, making him momentarily loosen his grip on her. That gave her just enough time to lunge at Clary again.

Her attempt to roll away from Colette failed when Colette caught hold of her hair and yanked Clary back towards herself.

Thrashing, Clary could've sworn she kicked someone else in the legs. A fist rammed into the side of her chest painfully, making a soft thudding noise. Clamping her mouth shut to stop the scream of pain threatening to release she blindly brought her fist up and managed to hit the other girl in the neck.

She watched as Colette's eyes widened in pain for a moment before she was yanked off Clary again.

Gasping, Clary rolled to a side, holding her aching sides. Her cheeks felt like they were burning and her scalp was prickling.

"By the Angel, Clary," an unfamiliar, deep and rumbling yet soothing voice said.

A pair of hands gently lifted her up. She hunched over, feeling a sharp pain blossoming in her chest area.

" _What the bloody hell, Colette?_ " Clary spat, looking up to glare at a resisting Colette. She was being held captive by Jace who looked like he was ready to incinerate Colette to fine ash. Clary could see that the grip Jace had on Colette's arm was tight.

Colette didn't look too pretty at the moment. The thought almost made Clary smile. The other girl's hair was tangled and messy, her eyeliner smudged and the four fingernail claw marks left by Clary stood out like a sore thumb against her pale skin. Blood was flowing from a few of those wounds, making its way down her cheek. But if Colette looked that bad, it made her wonder how bad she looked _herself._

" _Me?_ _You_ were flirting and making out with _Jace!_ " Colette hissed venomously, trying to yank her arm free from Jace's grip which didn't even budge.

"What's it to you?" Clary retorted though her hostility was weaker as that unsettling doubtful feeling kicked into her stomach, making it churn.

Jace was now full head on glaring at Colette, his grip on her arm tightening to the point where it looked like it was tight.

Colette opened her mouth as if to say something before clamping it shut in a hard, stubborn line. She yanked her arms away from Jace and stalked out of the room, muttering unmentionable and unprintable profanities with Clary's name making an appearance every few swear words. Just as Colette turned the corner, she stuck one grand middle finger up in the air.

The hands that held her led her over to one of the chairs in the library. Clary could feel her cheek beginning to swell up.

Clary tried to turn to thank whoever that had helped her but even the very start of that action hurt. What the hell did Colette do to her body?

The person knelt in front of Clary and stared into her eyes with his own wide eyes. The way he was looking at her told her that he probably knew her but _she_ didn't know him.

"Clary?" he said, his eyes searching hers.

The man had wide shoulders and the slight dusting of stubble on his chin. A pair of black framed glasses sat on his nose.

"By any chance are you my uncle or...?" Clary guessed. She couldn't really think of any other status this unfamiliar man could fit in.

Shock crossed the man's features and he seemed to struggle for words.

"Clary ... I ..." he turned to look at Maryse who had a hard look on her face. "So _this_ is what you meant by _different_?"

Isabelle shot a look at her mother. "You know what? Let's just inform the whole bloody Conclave, then? And why stop there? Let's go door to door to every single Downworlder home in New York, bearing cookies and telling them the news?" Isabelle said exasperatedly, throwing her hands up. Her whip which was always ever readily coiled around her wrist was uncoiled and it nearly hit Jace in the face when she threw her hands up.

"If Jocelyn knew, it wouldn't be fair to keep it from Luke." Maryse said softly.

"Jocelyn knows because _you_ told her, mother." Isabelle said harshly.

"I didn't tell her. She _demanded_ I tell her. She threatened to go to the bloody Conclave after hearing off a Downworlder that Clary was alive!" Maryse fumed.

"I'm standing right here!" Jocelyn growled.

"How the hell did a Downworlder in _New York_ find out about Clary. Or even hear of it?" Jace said. He looked stressed and furious, his eyebrows scrunched together.

Nobody answered his question as they all had the same confused and stressed face.

"Clary," the man in front of her said, pulling her attention back to him. "I'm your father." he said slowly.

"I thought my father was Valentine Morgenstern?" Clary said.

 _God, family connections are confusing_ , Clary thought.

A pained look flashed across the man and Jocelyn's face.

"The Angel forbid you see Valentine Morgenstern as your father." Jocelyn spat. She shot a glare at Jace but he didn't seem to notice.

"Well, stepfather," the man corrected.

"Luke ..." Jocelyn sighed.

"I'm fine, Jocelyn." Luke said. He looked back at Clary. "You should put an iratze on yourself." he said with a small, fake smile.

"I can do that." Jace sighed. Jocelyn narrowed her eyes and looked like she was ready to pounce as Jace walked towards her.

Luke moved away, letting Jace kneel in front of Clary. Gently, Jace tilted Clary's head upwards and applied the tip of his stele to the base of her neck.

A warm stinging sensation followed the tip of the stele as she felt it move on her neck in the pattern of overlapping circles. He then moved to her jaw and drew another _iratze_ there. Jace pulled back and Clary could see there was a burning fire in his eyes.

"Well, I'm going to go kill someone," Isabelle said, grinding her teeth together. She turned to leave but Alec caught her wrist, shaking his head.

" _Izzy,_ " he warned.

"We're supposed to _let_ her get away with nearly beating the life out of my _parabatai_?" Isabelle said incredulously.

"No. We can report her to the Clave. I doubt the Consul's daughter showing such behaviour isn't very acceptable. And I'm sure there's a rule against a Shadowhunter attacking another Shadowhunter with reason or being provoked." Maryse said calmly.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Mom. Listen to yourself. She's the daughter of the freaking Consul. All her mommy dearest needs to do is snap her French manicured fingers and Colette gets away. I say screw the Clave."

"Isabelle. Language." Maryse chided. "But it's times like this that makes me wonder why Jia ever stepped down."

"But mom's right. Even if Colette is the Consul's daughter, she's still a Shadowhunter under the Covenant of the Clave. The Laws apply to her too." Alec said.

Isabelle grunted, displeased.

"I'm going to my room." Isabelle muttered. She stalked out of the library, her whip like a glittering trail behind her.

Clary was very aware of Luke and Jocelyn staring at her with melancholy. She shifted uncomfortably under their stares.

"I think all of you should go rest. It's been stressful." Maryse sighed.

"Wait ... did you guys here find anything about Keayla?" Jace said.

Maryse sighed. "Yes. But it's not anything good."

Jem and Tessa walked in, Tessa clinging to Jem's arm, her head on his shoulder. Jem held a few thin and yellowing files in his hands, his eyes trained on them.

"Maryse, I found the - " Jem started. Maryse cleared her throat loudly. Jem looked up, his eyes going wide for a moment.

"Oh ... all of you are back." Jem said, surprise in his voice. He covered it with a small smile.

"Weren't we supposed to be back?" Jace said casually though Clary could see the suspicion in his eyes.

"We just weren't expecting you guys so early." Jem said, shrugging.

"Really?" Jace mused.

"Yes. Now, um ..."

"Did you guys find anything about my mother?" Clary said.

"Well ..." Jem said. He shot a worried look over at Maryse who sighed.

"Just tell them, James." she said.

"Okay ... so researching through the old Silent Brothers and Hodge Starkweather's archives on what very little I had to go on, I found these files." Jem said as he splayed the three files in his hands on the marble desk - the one with the enormous slab of marble on the backs of the agonized angels.

Jace was the first to the table, picking up the first file his hands touched.

"What are these?" Jace said, flipping through the one he had.

"Well, after doing a little Sherlock detective work, I found out who Keayla Ashworth really is or rather, was." Tessa said in a proud voice. Jem rolled his eyes, chuckling.

"We pulled out some old files on the Circle and - "

"The Circle?" Jocelyn said incredulously.

"Keayla Ashworth as it turned out, was once a member of the Circle." Jem said and for a reason, that sentence had a deeper finality than any other sentence she had heard in her entire life.

"What?!" About sixty percent of the people in the room screamed this, including Clary.

 _What the hell is the Circle?_ Clary thought, arching an eyebrow.

Jocelyn's mouth had fallen open while Luke looked as lost as a puppy.

"A member of the Circle?" Jocelyn said, walking forward. "Let me see her personal file. Please." Jocelyn said, holding her hand out.

Jem picked up one of the files from off the desk and handed it to Jocelyn. She flipped through the file, her bright green eyes scanning the yellowing pages.

"Wait ... what is the Circle?" Clary said, sounding as lost as she looked.

"It was a ... small ragtag group of revolutionizers that were pulled together by Valentine Morgenstern. To change the ways of the Clave." Jem explained. "It was originally built together for good but Valentine changed his ways and it went downhill from there."

"Valentine wanted to kill all Downworlders because he thought - believed - with an impossibly strong zeal that they were impure - an abomination. He tried to work together with demons to rid of Downworlders before killing off the demons themselves. Of course, his plans got bigger and more complex and darker...it finally just got to much and the Circle was looked on as a dark stain on Shadowhunter history. So many family names ruined because of the act of one man." Maryse said in a monotone.

"You sound like you have personal experience." Clary murmured.

Clary remembered what Jace said of her father - Valentine. A zealot who waged war on the Shadowhunters. She shivered at the thought of being related to someone like that.

"I was in the Circle." Maryse said, shocking Clary. "So was Luke and Jocelyn."

Clary looked over at Jocelyn who was still reading the file, appearing not to have heard what Maryse had said and then over to a seated Luke who had his head bowed like he was praying.

"She looks familiar," Jocelyn said suddenly.

"Who?" Jem asked.

"The girl. Keayla." Jocelyn murmured. Jocelyn laid the open file on the marble desk, revealing a finely detailed drawing of her mother when she was much, much younger.

"There's not much to go on. It was as if she didn't exist until the Circle was abolished." Jem said. "It says here in her files that her name was Deanna Arrowgrey ... I thought the name Arrowgrey fell out of lineage a century ago?"

"They did ... or at least that was what I was told," Jocelyn said. "Actually, she reminds me of Beauty Stormchild. I wasn't very close to her - no one was - but I remember that she was always a little out when it came to the Circle and Valentine. I don't think she joined on her free will. But for one thing, the drawing looks exactly like Beauty. "

 _Beauty Stormchild ... Keayla Ashworth ... Deanna Arrowgrey ... Keayla Ashworth ... Beauty Stormchild ... Deanna Arrowgrey ... Beauty Stormchild ... Deanna Arrowgrey ... Keayla Ashworth ... Beauty Stormchild ... Keayla Ashworth ... Deanna Arrowgrey ... Beauty Stormchild ... Keayla Ashworth ..._

The names rang in Clary's ears over and over as she stared at the drawing of her mother.

"I'm ... going to my room." Clary muttered. "Think things through."

Clary left the room, only one thought echoing through her head.

 _Who are you really, mom?_

 **A/N** **Hi ... I apologise for this sorry excuse of a chapter. Well, more of a filler. More tomorrow hopefully!**


	25. The Serpent Among Them

**Chapter 24 - The Serpent Among Them**

Jace ran a hand through his hair. He didn't think he could've taken another second of it.

A few seconds after Clary had left the infirmary, Luke had gone into a certain shocked state and had gone almost hyperventilated. Magnus and Jocelyn had to almost drag Luke out to calm down. It was very stressful to see one of the most emotionally stable men Jace knew break down like that.

"Alec, Jace, tell me everything that happened in London." Maryse said sternly.

Jace leaned back in the chair he was sitting on, gesturing for Alec to start talking. He already had to retell the whole thing to a murderous warlock so it was only fair Alec now had a go.

Jace immediately zoned out the moment Alec started talking.

The urge to walk around and do _something_ was too strong to ignore as Jace stood up and walked over to one of the towering bookshelves, randomly yanked a book out and flipped open to one of the pages.

Detailed and descriptive drawings filled the whole book, mainly pentagrams and funny looking wildflowers. He looked at the cover which was a velvet hardcover book with silver words scrawled across the front.

It was called _Banned Pentagrams, Spells and Curses_. Seemed interesting enough.

Jace made his way back over to Maryse and Alec, standing behind his adoptive mother as he read. She seemed to barely acknowledge Jace as she payed attention to her oldest son as he spoke, sounding almost mechanical as he retold what happened.

The marble desk was littered with official letters from the Clave and what seemed like stacks of books that weighed several tonnes, giving the anguished angels finally a reason to look as if the large marble table had really something on them that was breaking their backs.

Jace flipped open his own book and read - or rather slid over - the many said notorious and dangerous banned pentagrams and spells.

It turned out from the detailed explanations that _most_ of these banned and _dangerous_ pentagrams and spells were simply faulty, unfinished and unpredictable, some impossibly easy to manipulate into something _really_ dangerous.

Only several Jace had come across of being _really_ dangerous. He almost pitied the true dangers being stuck in a book with a bunch of other _unpredictable_ and lousy excuses for _dangerous_.

As pathetic as it was, Jace found certain entries interesting and the rest just plain old amusing rubbish - the useless type that is so bad you can't help but laugh at it.

"Isn't that right, Jace?" Alec's voice was like background elevator music to Jace. It was there, you knew it, but you chose to ignore it. He only responded when he heard the melodic, angelic sound of his four lettered name.

"Hmm?"

"The name Evangelyn gave us. Martin Starkweather, wasn't it?" Alec said.

"Yes ..." Jace said, his eyes still cast downwards on the book he was reading. He wondered if he could match any of the pentagrams in the journals to the ones in these books.

"Martin Starkweather?" Maryse said. "There are still some living Starkweathers but I don't remember there ever being a _Martin_ Starkweather."

"Well, whoever he is, he's long dead." Jace said, closing the fat book. He eyed the pentagrams scattered on Maryse's table. They spoke of something dark and bloodthirsty. Jace could see it in them.

"What are those?" Jace asked. Maryse turned back to look at him and he gestured towards the scattered scrolls and parchments and pentagram drawings.

Maryse's eyes darted frantically towards them and _tried_ to casually gather them into a pile and hide them from Jace's and view.

"Nothing you need to worry yourself with, Jace," Maryse said, a slight warning in her tone.

If anything, that sentence only made Jace's curiosity blossom.

Maryse was probably going to kill him for what he was doing next but his feet were already moving forward. He snatched one of the official Clave letters and unfolded it, reading the cramped slanted handwriting.

"Jace!" Maryse scolded, shoving her chair and standing up. Jace moved away from the table, in hopes of not getting caught by a fuming Maryse Lightwood.

His eyes scanned the paper, trying to read the words as kept out of Maryse's reach:

 _Addressed to Maryse Lightwood. (For her eyes only)_

 _From The Inquisitor Lightwood._

 _The Clave would appreciate if several Shadowhunters of the New York Institute could be sent to the following sites for investigation of the recent murders._

"Jace Herondale you give me that right now or I swear on the Angel!" Maryse threatened, leaving the sentence dangling. Jace took the stairs two at time, avoiding Maryse's attempts at sweeping the paper away from Jace. He continued reading, semi aware of a fuming Maryse.

 _We have narrowed our suspicions to these several places and hope that the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute will find something productive:_

 _Pandemonium Club_

 _The Hotel Dumort_

 _Central Park_

 _Madame Destine's Destiny Parlour_

 _Magnus Bane's dwelling_

 _We hope that you will be able to find something to help and immediately report any new findings to the Clave. Much appreciated._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Inquisitor Lightwood_

Jace's eyebrows scrunched up. What the bloody hell was this?

"Mom, what's this about recent murders?" Jace said, holding up the piece of paper. Alec had gotten up from his seat, his own expression confused.

"It's nothing," Maryse said, trying to snatch the paper away from Jace who stretched on his toes, holding the letter in the air.

With incredibly long strides, Alec joined his parabatai. Jace handed Alec the letter. He took it, looking slightly confused but read it anyways.

" _Jace_ ," Maryse hissed. Jace tried not to feel or show fear but when Maryse Lightwood was shooting you murderous glares, it was best wise to feel _very_ scared or internal combustion due to fear overdrive could occur.

Jace saw Alec's eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunch together.

"What the _hell_ is this?" Alec spat, waving the letter. The only color that would be appropriate for what color Alec's cheeks were at the moment was pink. Radiant pink.

"Alexander -"

"Oh, don't goddamn Alexander me, mom. What _murders_? And why is Magnus suspected?!" Alec fumed, looking scary. Jace - unconsciously - sidestepped away from his parabatai just a little.

"They're just murders, Alec. And they aren't suspecting Magnus. The Clave just found some evidence near his loft." Maryse said indignantly, finally managing in snatching the paper away from Alec.

Alec snorted. "Mom, are you _listening_ to yourself? The Clave is built out of a bunch of narrow minded idiots - Dad probably being the biggest narrow minded prick of them all -" Alec cut off, seeing Maryse's look of anger and denial and silenced her with a glare. "Don't even deny it. You know it. That's how he is when he comes to these sort of things."

Jace looked at Alec whose face was flushed and blue eyes were sad.

Maryse and Robert's divorce took quite the toll on Isabelle and Alec and secretly, Jace suspected that Alec resented Robert for it. Isabelle had spent two days crying in her room while Alec had refused to talk to either of his parents for a week, muttering and cursing behind their backs to Jace who, as a good parabatai, had loyally and painstakingly listened to Alec as he ranted. Maryse had been allowed to keep the Lightwood name and everything was as if there was no divorce except that Robert and Maryse were no longer attached and committed to each other.

In a way, Alec currently only resented Robert for divorcing Maryse and being the Inquisitor. Robert and Alec had managed to get over the enormous homosexuality hurdle (though Jace sometimes noticed Robert looking uncomfortably and cringing at the mention of Alec and Magnus's relationship).

A few months after the Dark War and Robert being voted Inquisitor, Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Clary had decided that Robert Lightwood _did not_ make a brilliant Inquisitor. Robert was ruthless - worse than Imogen had been - and the punishments handed down were always harsh. Robert had always been a facts only man. He never followed whatever his gut told him. If it couldn't be proven, Robert wouldn't even look at the statement twice. Jace would bet his first child on the fact that if Robert was told Alec was responsible for the burning of the Institute and he was there coincidentally, Alec would probably find himself in a hearing the very next hour though Robert knew his son would never do that.

Maryse sighed, looking deflated. "If there is evidence, you can't possibly expect your father to ignore it, can you?"

"Hell, he's probably doing this to get Magnus in trouble so I won't see him anymore." Alec said, grinding his teeth together.

"That's not nice. Your father has given you and Magnus his blessing already and he knows how much Bane means to you. You'd never forgive him if he did." Maryse said, though there was an uncertainty in her tired blue eyes.

"Well, what _murders_?" Alec and Jace said.

"They started a little while back," Maryse said, looking like she was trying to remember when they started. "Actually, it was around the time … Jace went to London."

"Well, that's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it?" Alec said, his sarcasm barely noticeable.

"You think these are related?" Jace said, looking at the both of them. Alec shrugged while Maryse had a concentrated look on her face.

"This is going in too deep. I'm going to have to report this to the Clave sooner or later. At the moment, this situation isn't exactly breaking Clave law but soon, by the looks of it, it will and I'll have no choice but to report this."

"Are you serious? This isn't breaking any Covenant Laws?" Alec said incredulously.

Maryse looked slightly sheepish which was a first. "I found a loophole." she said simply.

"Who knew? Maryse Lightwood, complete law abiding Shadowhunter, hoodwinking the carefully constructed Covenant Laws?" Jace said.

"Hoodwinking?" Alec said, looking at Jace with an arched eyebrow. "Who says that?"

"Ah, that's deepest, inner pits of my British soul coming to life, my dear parabatai," Jace said, leaping over the side of the stairs railing, landing gracefully in a crouch.

"And what color might that be? The inner depths of your British soul? Gold?" Alec said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Mauve," Jace said, grinning. He strode over to the marble table, sifting through the letters and pentagrams.

"Jace, just because you read one doesn't mean you can read the rest." Maryse said, striding over to him and snatching one of the papers which had the drawing of a pentagram on it away from Jace.

"At the moment, I've got a much larger chance of finding the cause of these murders than you." Jace said, taking the paper back.

"Jace has a point," Alec said.

Maryse sighed. "I know."

Jace grinned. Alec continued telling Maryse everything and Jace rolled his eyes.

In his peripheral, he caught sight of the unmistakable Colette. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge lunge at her and punch her teeth in.

 _What the bloody goddamn hell did she think she was doing?_ Jace thought. He put the letter he was holding down and quietly excused himself before going after Colette, his hands clenched tightly.

Clary flipped the page of the journal she was reading, all the while a raging battle was going through her head. She ignored the annoying argument she was having with herself about Jace and Colette and concentrated on reading the journal she was holding.

She remembered the first few words Jace had said to her.

" _Yet you can see the Shadow World. It's a conundrum...then again, you may not be a mundane at all. Like my Clary._ "

My Clary.

What did he mean? She doubted it was anything romantic. They were, sort of, brother and sister, what by sharing the same father. Then, he must have meant it in a brotherly way.

"Oh my God ..." Clary groaned in frustration, banging her head against her headboard. Pain shot through her head, making her cringe.

"Shit." she growled. She rubbed the back of her head, wincing.

"I can't take this anymore." Clary muttered, getting off her bed. The carpet tickled her bare feet but she didn't bother putting on shoes.

She slipped into her cardigan, the cold enveloping around her. Even through jeans clad feet she could feel the chill. She decided to go see Isabelle, to clear everything up. She now wondered why hadn't she done this in the first place.

Even though she had absolutely no idea where Isabelle's room was, her legs randomly carried her through halls and dimly lit corridors. Quietly, she crept down the short flight of stairs that seemed to be the only access to the third floor of the Institute.

Wandering around, she hoped that she got one of those _feel-it_ moments when you _knew_ that this was it or this was right or this fit the puzzle. So far, she had gotten nothing.

However, after a minute of wandering around, she heard the sound of glass breaking behind one of the doors. There was a soft, barely audible cry that made Clary wonder if she had really heard it. A thump of flesh hitting something solid followed the cry, making Clary feel panicky. There was the sound of a labored grunt following.

Clary heard Isabelle's unmistakable voice curse, telling her that this was Izzy's room.

Clary knocked, trying not to sound too persistent. There was a lot of rustling and the _thunking_ of wood and plastic.

The door wrenched open, visibly with much force revealing a rather battered Isabelle. She peeked her head out from the door, not allowing Clary a full glimpse into her room. Clary only a small peek of pink and shards of broken glass that lay on the floor. Blood ran from a gash in Isabelle's forehead and a split in her lip. Her hair was completely disheveled, sticking out in every direction from her ponytail.

"Yeah?" she said, raising an eyebrow. She said it in a breathy tone, like she had fought her way to the door.

"I … Are you okay?" Clary said, staring as the blood trickled from the gash in her forehead.

"Yeah. Never better. Why?" she said, a bit too quickly, like she was trying to avoid the question.

"You have a cut in your head?" Clary said, staring at it. Isabelle lifted a hand and dabbled at the dark red blood. She looked at the blood that stained her fingertips in shock.

"Oh. I must have cut myself when I fell." Isabelle said, laughing it off. Blood continued to flow down one side of her face.

"You _fell_ , on the floor, a _flat_ surface and gave yourself _that_?" Clary said, arching an eyebrow.

"I fell in glass." Isabelle said, her tone suggesting that if Clary pressed this any further, someone was going to lose a finger.

"Okay..."

"So what do you want? Make it quick before I die of blood lost." Isabelle snapped, reminding her frighteningly of Colette.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you about my past? The real me? Clary Morgenstern?" Clary said hopefully.

"Could you come back another time? I kinda have a mess I need to clean up. If I do tell you, that's gonna take at least a few hours and I'm pretty sure I'll be dead by then." Isabelle said dryly.

"Oh. Okay." Clary said, shocked. She took a step back and Isabelle smiled.

"Bye bye." Isabelle said to her before slamming the door loudly, the sound echoing through the halls. Clary flinched at the sound.

Clary stared at the door for a few more long moments, Isabelle's harsh attitude making her almost frozen with shock. Maybe she was PMSing.

Eventually, Clary felt like she could walk again though she knew that the ability had never left her.

She walked down the hallways, enjoying wandering around in the dimly lit corridors.

Hell, she didn't even know _where_ in the Institute was she.

" _What the hell, Colette?_ " a familiar voice rang out. Clary stopped in her tracks, listening intently. She knew eavesdropping wasn't something polite but she wanted to hear what was going on.

" _What did you think you were doing?_ "

Clary realized that the voice was quite close to her. She peeked around the corner and her eyes narrowed at the sight in front of her.

Jace had Colette up against the wall, his arms on either side of her head, trapping her. His face was contorted in anger, his jaw set angrily. Colette didn't even seem scared; she was looking sullenly at Jace, her lips pulled into a pout. She looked like a misbehaving child caught doing something bad by an adult.

Clary wanted to punch her face.

" _What the hell did you think you were going to achieve?_ " Jace growled as he leaned in closer - dangerously closer - to Colette.

Even now, Clary could appreciate the swell of muscles that peeked out from the sleeves of Jace's shirt. They flexed slightly as he moved.

Colette said something inaudible to Jace whose face changed into one of disbelief and dry amusement as he pulled back.

" _What?_ " he said, scoffing, as if he had heard wrong.

"I _said,_ " Colette said, louder this time. "That you're mine. You've always have been."

One side of his mouth quirked into a smile that _almost_ looked sardonic.

Jace leaned in closer again and opened his mouth as if to say something, his smile still on his sculpted lips but was interrupted when Colette _lunged_ at him and kissed him, her lips molding and attaching themselves to Jace's.

Her hands wrapped around Jace's neck while Jace's hands immediately went to her waist and Clary could watch no more.

She ducked back behind the corner, tears threatening to spill. She felt her stomach do a three sixty flip before flopping to the soles of her feet and the ache in her chest as her heart was shattered, pummeled, shredded, blended, smashed and diced into a billion little pieces.

She knew she had felt worse pain but in that split moment Colette and Jace's lips had connected, she could've sworn that the pain she felt could've beat every single suffering on Earth. Like she was suffocating - drowning - in pain.

And this was emotional pain. Pain from _within_. The _inside_. No amount of pain killers, stitches, bandages or runes could fix her broken heart. _Nothing_ could truly extinguish her pain completely.

As she took that step back as she ducked behind the corner again, she felt the small of her back hit the end of a table that was _so_ conveniently placed _right_ behind her. And that table, _conveniently_ , _had_ to have a glass vase on it.

Clary heard the fragile glass vase shatter to the floor, the sound oddly mirroring the sound of her own shattering heart.

Actually, Clary wasn't sure which shattering is it that she had heard.

" _What the hell?_ " Jace shouted. Oh God, he had heard her.

Clary clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a rising sob and tried to step around the shattered glass. Unfortunately, Clary felt some of the jagged shards dig into the soles of her feet and embed themselves there, making every step that Clary took feel like hell.

Ignoring the dull burning pain in her feet, Clary broke into a run, all the while tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to run away from those two bastards.

Clary wished, just _wished_ that it was as easy as this: running.

Running away from all your problems, leaving every single heartbreak, disappointment and hurt. But that didn't work in reality.

" _Clary?_ " Jace called, his voice shocked and broken.

Clary stifled another rising sob at the sound of her name. Everything hurt twice as much at the sound of her name leaving _his_ mouth.

"Stay away from me!" Clary cried but the words felt like lies. Clary wanted Jace to explain, to reassure her that nothing was happening between him and Colette (but at the same time she had a strong urge to kick Jace in his jewels and rip Colette's fake being apart).

Hating herself and hating Jace, the real truth hit her like a wrecking ball: she was in love with Jace.

With that bastard.

Shame on herself.

She had fallen for him, fallen too hard and he hadn't been there to catch her so here she was, lying cracked and broken on the ground like a fragile cracked porcelain doll.

Clary now regretted not listening to Colette. If she had just stayed away …

The back of her neck prickled with the feeling of being followed.

Ahead, Clary saw a room with its door slightly ajar. Sprinting, she ducked into the room, pinning herself against the wall.

She had ducked into one of the Institutes many empty bedrooms, this one with a collected layer of dust on almost everything.

Praying that the door wouldn't make a sound, Clary closed it until it was open by a slit which she could look out from.

Five seconds later, Jace appeared in her line of sight looking frantic and desperate.

"Clary!" he called again. He ran a hand through his hair, his forehead creased.

Clary had to use _both_ hands to stifle her sobs.

 _Go away, Jace, stop cutting a bigger wound by looking so broken_ , Clary thought, her eyes clamped shut. A few more tears escaped, trailing down her face.

Taking a deep rattling breath, Clary peeked out the slit of the door.

Jace took off and disappeared but that set a heavy stone on her shattered heart.

She couldn't help but hate herself for still loving him even after this.

Another round of tears was brought on and suddenly the room she was in was extremely suffocating, helping the pain she felt to drown her. She felt as if her throat had been clogged up and her lungs and windpipe had covered over in fuzz and she was trying to breathe through a pillow.

Taking another rattling breath, Clary staggered out of her room, walking in the opposite direction Jace had gone.

She felt like she could breathe better in the hallways but inside, something was still trying to suffocate her.

All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and cry.

Blindly, she searched for the stairs that led to her room. She found it and slowly trudged up it, by this time the sleeves of her cardigan wet with salty tears.

Not really looking, Clary shuffled through the corridor. She looked and suddenly realized that she was extremely _I'm-going-to-die-here_ lost.

She randomly pushed open a pair of big wooden doors and the muted smell of damp, overturned dirt and flowers blew into her.

For a moment, almost forgetting her tears, Clary stared at the sight before her.

Plants and flowers filled her vision, giving off the most alluring scent. Plants and flowers that she had never seen before blossomed vibrantly.

The entire scene reminded her of a fairytale garden where you could expect a unicorn to appear from behind a tree or a Disney princess sweep through the place, gowns, tiaras and all.

But for now, all Clary wanted was for this garden to be a place of solace, where she could go to pieces freely.

 **A/N - Don't scream at me! I know! I hate myself too … Don't hate but please!**


	26. Treachery

**Chapter 25 - Treachery**

Every time Clary thought she was done crying, another round of freshly baked tears came rolling down her cheeks.

At several moments in time of the half hour she had spent in her, she had felt like the world's most pathetic person as she sat on a spiral staircase that led to the second level of the garden slash greenhouse, her knees hugged to her chest.

She found it almost ridiculous that she crying so much over a boy she had met a week and half ago but she felt as if the pain went in deeper and longer than a week and a half. It pierced her in deep and it hooked itself deep in her, not letting go no matter how hard she tried to pull away.

And all they had ever done was _kiss_. No 'I love you's or anything official or exclusive yet it hurt, more than it should. _Much much more._

The sound of a pitiful meow momentarily dried her tears as Clary looked up, surprised to see a pudgy looking Church meowing at her, it's fluffy Persian head cocked to a side.

It looked at her like it was confused, his lazy eyes slitted and narrowed slightly as if it were scrutinizing her.

"Don't look at me like that." Clary said, wiping away a falling tear with the back of her already tear stained hand.

Church meowed again and gave Clary a look that, crazily, could've have only meant ' _you look pathetic_ '.

"I know. You don't have to meow it in." Clary muttered, resting her chin on her arms as she stared at the grayish blue cat while it stared back.

Clary lost the staring contest, blinking when her raw red eyes needed tears. Church seemed to purr with satisfaction as it padded quietly and gracefully over to Clary, nudging her leg with its head as it settled beside her, it's tail swishing.

Church continued to nudge its head in a demanding manner, meowing occasionally. Clary sighed, scooping the ball of persistent fur up into her arms and into her lap. Church purred, his tail tickling Clary's arm as it continued swishing back and forth.

Clary absent-mindedly stroked Church's soft silky fur as she stared almost sightlessly at the flowers that were a few feet from where she sat.

Unlike normal daytime flowers that bloomed in the day, these flowers were closed and bundled up tightly. Even from here, Clary could smell their captivating scent of lavender and vanilla.

In a flash in her mind, she remembered one of the many dreams she had. This one of the blond angel in the midnight greenhouse. A tear slid down her cheek as she gritted her teeth.

Shadowhunters didn't cry.

Again and again, Clary saw in her head - not of Jace and Colette kissing but of Jace being happy with Colette; laughing, hugging and looking at Colette with eyes filled with love and adoration.

Clary realized in a small part in her body that what she was feeling for Jace was completely unreasonable but every time she saw those images in her head, it was like each image was a knife stabbed into her heart before being dragged across her already shredded heart.

She didn't hate Colette (which was absurd, she knew). For all Clary knew, Clary herself could've been the third wheel in their relationship.

Her eyes fluttered shut and the tears flowed again. She felt her lips tremble and she bit it hard to stop the trembling until she tasted blood. She gasped at the sudden pain, her eyes fluttering open.

Her tongue tasted salty coppery liquid.

Church meowed and Clary continued her unconsciously halted petting.

Clary looked down at the Persian cat on her lap, staring at her with its big eyes. She patted its head, sighing again.

Church looked away, it's head moving away from Clary's touch. Church let out a guttural hiss. Clary felt Church's body bunch and tense in her lap as his hair stood on end.

"What is it?" Clary said soothingly.

Church hissed again as it glared into a wall of green - trees and plants so tightly positioned next to each other that they looked like a wall of green and occasional flowers.

A sharp pain in her lap made her gasp. Clary gently lifted Church and gently dumped him on the steps beside her. There was a tugging sensation and she looked down and saw that her jeans were slightly torn and blood dotted the skin. Church had his claws out as he continued to hiss.

Clary narrowed her eyes at the wall of green and thought she saw someone's silhouetted face watching her. She blinked and the face disappeared.

Again, Clary refused to say " _Who's there?_ "because to her, it seemed like the most _stupid_ thing anyone could do. What did all those girls in horror movies think they were doing? What would they do if a murderer popped out from behind the kitchen and replied _"Oh, I'm back here, sharpening a knife for your death. Sit tight for a moment. You wait a minute please_ "?

Brushing the underside of her jeans, Clary got up and slowly approached the wall of green. The soles of her feet had gone numb and the bleeding had stopped a long time ago. She had dug and yanked out any of the shards of glass she could get to but some were in a little too deep.

Before she could even reach the wall of green, someone tall and slim stepped out from behind the foliage.

"Oh … you scared me." Clary breathed.

"What are you doing up here?" she asked Clary, looking completely sincere.

Clary shrugged. "What are _you_ doing up here?"

The girl smiled - a twisted, malicious smile that made ice shoot down Clary's spine - before lunging at Clary.

It was a blur but somehow Clary had managed to duck in time before she could be tackled.

She jumped to her feet and whirled around, only to come face to face with her. The girl that stood before her now looked nothing like the girl she knew. There was a slight crazed look in her eyes and her hair was a complete mess.

Clary heard her skull crack against the tiled path of the greenhouse, pain shooting through her head and her vision wavering. She gasped at the pain before a harsh pressure cut off her breathing. She thrashed underneath her attacker and grasped and yanked at the arm that was choking her vainly. Clary swung her fist up and knocked the side of the girl's head. She reared back and Clary took the opportunity to crawl away.

"Come back here!" she growled and yanked Clary by her leg back. Reaching out blindly, Clary grabbed a flower pot and smashed it on the bitch's head. She snarled in pain as blood dribbled down the side of her face.

A silver colored powder was blown into Clary's face and involuntarily took a breath of it.

The effects of the powder was instantaneous. Clary felt lightheaded and her vision blurred.

Black spots danced across her vision and Clary felt her attempts grow feeble. There was a hiss in her ear and an indignant snarl but Clary couldn't concentrate well enough to see what it was. She felt a sharp yank on her wrist, where her charm bracelet always hung on. It had been a present from Keayla and recently, Clary had taken to wearing it. The bloody traitor, who was trying to keep Clary still as she feebly thrashed, kicked and punched, screamed as the sound of a sizzle rang close to Clary's ears.

Just before her eyes closed and she let her body drift, Clary remembered when she was attacked in Labyrinth by a mystery person and cursed silently at the fact that her attacker was the same person that was on top of her now, threatening to kill her. She remembered what happened in Labyrinth now but damn it that she only remembered _now_.

Everyone trusted her but she betrayed them and now she was trying to kill Clary. She had sent them the demons in Labyrinth, had been probably double crossing her this whole time but _why_?

" _By the way, Keayla had it coming_." Isabelle whispered menacingly on her ear.

Murmuring a curse, Clary tried to grasp onto that last wisp of anger but failed. Instead, she relaxed and let her mind fall into unconsciousness.

And now that she drifted, Clary couldn't have possibly seen the shadowed figure who had been watching the entire struggle between the two disappear in a haste and returning to the Institute.

Alec watched his _parabatai_ repeatedly beat himself up mentally.

Jace had his face buried in his hands, occasionally letting out a tortured moan or groan. Jace sat in one of the Victorian high backed chairs in his room while Alec sat opposite him on his own bed, his legs crossed as he silently watched Jace who had barely said anything since he dragged Alec in here.

While his mother had been in the midst of asking him question after question after question - all practically the same except in different words - Jace had burst into the Institute, looking frantic, desperate and _lost_. Alec had got up immediately, cutting his mother off mid-sentence and wordlessly followed Jace. Alec could see in Jace's posture and attitude as he walked that Jace in no way was _okay_.

Without asking any questions, Alec had followed Jace into his own room where Jace had thrown himself into the chair he was sitting in now and had been in for the last twenty minutes.

The only words Jace muttered in that time was " _Kill me, Alec._ " before he continued silently battering himself up. Alec had seen this side of Jace enough to know what was going on.

In some way, something had probably happened that had destroyed or ruined something that Jace probably blamed himself for though it probably wasn't even his fault in the first place. Jace had always had a tendency to blame himself for any mishap or anything, really. And even when it was evident that he want to blame, Jace would always manage to use his smart tongue and words to twist things up so Jace could still blame himself.

"Jace," Alec sighed.

"I'm not done," Jace muttered before relapsing into silence.

Alec sighed, ignoring what Jace said. "What happened? Talk, Jonathan Christopher Herondale."

"We're on full name basis now?" Jace said, finally looking up at Alec. His eyes were haunted and his expression blank.

"What happened?" Alec sighed.

"Well, if you must know, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, I screwed up." Jace said simply, leaning back onto the chair and running a hand through his hair.

"Screwed up what?" Alec said, leaning forward.

"Everything. I can't seem to stop _hurting_ her," Jace groaned, running both his hands through his hair, pushing the long golden curls back.

"What did you do?"

"I … I don't know how to explain." Jace said, groaning in frustration. He got up suddenly and started pacing, his hands continuously running through his hair.

"From the start then."

Jace looked at Alec levelly and searched his eyes, as if to see if Alec would judge him. Alec put on his most trustful and open face because even though sometimes when Alec felt one way, his face and actions showed the other.

Jace seemed to be satisfied with his search before slumping back into the chair he had occupied a few moments ago.

"I saw Colette and I followed her." Jace started, his eyes troubled.

Already, Alec didn't like the story. _Anything_ that started with Colette could never be good. But Alec kept quiet and silently urged Jace to go on.

"And so I followed her for quite a while; she wouldn't stop walking so I continued following her." Jace said, creases appearing in his forehead. Jace was rambling - something he barely did but would do when he couldn't process properly. Alec gave him a meaningful look and Jace exhaled in frustration. "I finally got her and when I did, I confronted her about what she did to Clary earlier today."

"Confronted her how?" Alec said curiously. He wouldn't have minded if Jace had thrown a punch or two. Or three. Or four. Five would be good too.

"Verbally." Jace said and his eyes glinted with regret. Whatever that happened next, Alec knew that Jace probably regretted not going with the physical option. Alec wished Jace had went with the physical option.

"I told her off, I screamed, I threatened and _all that while_ , Colette _smiled_ like some fool." Jace said through gritted teeth.

"And _just_ when I was about to slap her, she _kissed_ me." Jace said and Alec noticed that his parabatai paled slightly, as if the mention or thought of what he had just said sickened him like it some lethal poison that burned his mouth.

Alec's jaw dropped, to say the least. He wasn't expecting _that_.

"I pushed her off immediately of course but I heard this … sound of breaking glass and I thought someone had seen. I turned the corner and saw, out of all the 7 billion people in the world, _Clary_ running away." Jace groaned the last part, slumping in his seat.

"Well, technically, _all_ seven billion people wouldn't be able to fit in the Institute ..." Alec said, trying to lighten the mood. Obviously Jace didn't appreciate his effort because he reached backwards towards Alec's work table, picked up one of the thicker, soft cover books on the table and flung it at Alec. The book bounced of Alec's shoulder, pain prickling the place where the corner of the book had bounced off. It landed with a muted thud on the bed.

"I'm going to _kill_ Colette when I get my hands on that airy bloated head of hers." Jace snarled, grinding his teeth together. He buried his face in his hands groaning.

"She must have known Clary was watching," Alec said, ignoring the already dulling pain in his shoulder. He figured that Jace was probably too full with angst to come up with witty one liners.

"But you didn't kiss her back, did you?" Alec said, raising an eyebrow.

Jace glared at Alec. "Of course not." Jace's golden eyes blazed angrily.

"But I thought Clary didn't have feelings for you?" Alec said, the fact popping into his head suddenly.

Jace sighed. "I don't know. I ..." Jace glared at Alec. "Now I feel like I'm upset over nothing."

"No, no, carry on."

"You should have heard her, Alec. The last time I heard her so broken or hurt was when we threw Jonathan's ashes into the Lake - okay, maybe not that bad but she still sounded so hurt ..." Jace said, his eyes burning with a memory. His voice was thick with regret. He shifted uncomfortably, making Alec wonder he was thinking or remembering.

"His name was Sebastian, Jace." Alec said patiently. Alec hated it when Jace called Sebastian Jonathan. The bastard didn't deserve the same name as Jace even though the _real_ _non demon_ Sebastian was someone who seemed like he would have been noble and funny and kind and gentlemanly. The real Sebastian, if he hadn't been tainted and contaminated by Lilith's blood since birth and even in the womb, could have been Jace's parabatai.

Sometimes, a picture of Jace and Sebastian laughing together, acting like brothers haunted Alec's mind. He pushed the image away now and tried to focus on Jace at the moment instead of his own petty jealousy over someone who was dead.

"I know," Jace said, looking at his callused hands - the hands of a warrior and a musician. Alec had always admired Jace for being able to balance his training and his music and come out at the top of both. He knew no other Shadowhunter, besides Clary, who could balance the two. It had been one of the things that had attracted him to Jace in the first place. He still did admire him for that ability to balance but now nothing more than utter respect.

"But it seems wrong for me to call him Sebastian. Sebastian was a demon, someone that was never supposed to exist if it wasn't for Lilith. The real Sebastian was Jonathan, someone who could love and regret and forgive and feel remorse and he died Jonathan, not Sebastian. He died as who he was supposed to be." Jace said, looking up from his callused fingers. "Don't get me wrong, I still hate the guy for what he did but I feel like calling him Jonathan is the least we could give him from the life he was supposed to have. I refuse to refer to him as Sebastian unless we're talking about him when he was _Sebastian_."

"Did you try looking for Clary?" Alec said, preferring the original topic.

"Yes. But I can't find her _anywhere_ ," Jace said. "Even if she's not … sad … I want to see her but I can't find her _anywhere_." Jace said, a slight tinge of desperation in his voice.

"Calm down, Jace." Alec said, stopping himself from going over there to slap some calm into Jace.

"I - I - I can't, Alec. Something doesn't _feel_ right." Jace said, gritting his teeth.

"It could be the nerves. I mean she did catch you and Co-"

Jace visibly blanched before he shot him a glare that meant to burn him where he sat. Alec shut up immediately. "It's not. Before the War, when we were in Idris … I knew, I _felt_ Clary was in trouble. And when I got to Amatis', Sebastian was there, threatening Clary."

"I thought the body of a guard shoved under a bridge was what alerted you?"

"That told me something was definitely wrong but I had this feeling long before that."

"Then why don't just track her with a rune?"

Jace's lips pressed together tightly and he reluctantly reached into his shirt and pulled out the chain that hung around his neck from which hung the Morgenstern ring.

Alec watched as Jace removed the chain from around his neck and dropped it into his right palm. He closed it and took out his stele with the other hand before drawing a rune on the back of his right hand.

Jace felt sick to his stomach. His one sided kiss with Colette was disgusting, to say the least. It had felt _wrong_ in so many ways, the feeling of her lips against his.

Those lips weren't Clary's and worse of all, they belonged to _Colette_.

Jace fought back a shudder at the thought. He couldn't even comprehend what Colette was thinking when she had practically attacked him and kissed him. As surprised as he had been, his reaction had been immediate.

His hands had dropped to Colette's waist, squeezed and he had shoved her away, for a gentler word. The moment his lips where free, Jace had the sudden urge to spit. He _had_ wiped his mouth with his sleeve repeatedly. He had screamed at Colette before going after Clary.

The kiss reminded Jace of another time, almost two years ago, in Idris. That time, he had been desperate to distract himself from his raging feelings for Clary. He had dragged Aline Penhallow into one of the rooms and they had escalated into a make out session. Even then, he only managed to make it through that by imagining it was Clary he was kissing. Even _then_ , it had felt wrong but he had persevered anyways.

Jace closed his eyes and cleared his head and concentrated, waiting for the rune to take effect.

He waited for an image of where Clary was … and waited.

The moment seemed to drag on and on until just a quick flicker, the flash of an image appeared behind his eyelids. It was like looking through fog. He couldn't see the image properly, a fog of smoke blocking the pure vision. He saw the image of fire just before it disappeared, leaving Jace to looking at the inside of his eyelids again.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, meeting the blue eyes of his _parabatai_.

" _Nothing_." Jace said. He could feel his heartbeat picking up at a rapid speed. "I can't see anything." Jace said.

"Try again," Alec pressed.

Feeling hopeless, Jace repeated the tracking ritual again and this time with worse results.

Nothing.

He saw absolute darkness, not even a flicker of an image to guide him to wherever Clary was. His hand tightened on the ring in frustration, his eyes fluttering open.

"Jace," Alec warned. He was staring at Jace's hand which still clutched the Morgenstern ring. Jace looked at it and was surprised to see that crimson ran down his hand and dripped onto the hardwood of Alec's floor. He didn't feel the pain but he was shocked to see that he was bleeding.

He ungrasped his hand and saw that the sharp-cut edges of the ring had cut into his palm, leaving marks that were about a centimetre long with blood oozing from the cuts.

Alec exhaled angrily, kneeled before him and grabbed his injured hand and applied his stele to his wrist. Jace watched as Alec drew an _iratze_ before pulling back.

"I saw nothing," Jace repeated, standing. He quickly slipped on the Morgenstern ring again, feeling the now slightly warm metal hit his chest.

"She couldn't have left the Institute, could she?" Alec said, standing as well.

"I don't know. She could have," Jace said, running a hand through his hair. "But even if she did, what could be disrupting the magic?"

"A large body of water maybe?" Alec suggested. Jace thought of any other ways that could block magic but he was too stressed to think properly. He hated feeling so...vulnerable but the other thought of losing Clary again was unbearable, almost physically painful for Jace. It was making him impulsive and it was clouding his usual state of mind.

"Unless Clary fell into the East River or if you fancy checking every single lake in New York and Brooklyn, I don't think so." Jace said. He could feel the worry and frustration slowly building up in his chest, peaking to a boil until it could no longer collect anymore and it would explode.

"It could be the Blocks in her mind." Jace said, twisting the Herondale ring fidgetily around his left middle finger.

"But Blocks don't do that, Jace." Alec said in a gentle voice, as if he were talking to a toddler that had a problem with understanding the concept of a rainbow.

"But her case isn't ordinary, is it? Jem said so himself." Jace said and instead of reveling in the fact that he was right like usual, he only felt cold ice spreading and traveling through his body. What if the Block in Clary's mind barred all ways of tracking her? The thought made Jace's stomach flip in his body. He gritted his, teeth, determined to get a grip on himself. Alec but his entire lower lip, looking like he didn't have a comeback for what Jace had just said.

"Blocks can't, Jace. They're mental, all in the mind. Tracking is physical. It's just not possible." Alex said after a while. Jace exhaled frustratedly. His _parabatai_ was right.

"But something is seriously wrong, Alec." Jace started towards the door and Alec followed him, his own eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"I'll go get Isabelle," Alec said as he took off in the opposite direction. "Why don't you head to the library first?"

Jace nodded curtly and continued taking long strides which was all Jace could manage so he wouldn't break into a sprint.

He did, however, start a mild jog before it turned out into a moderate run.

He shouldered the library doors open and halted in his action when he saw who was in the library.

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him because Jace's worrying was momentarily pushed to the back of his head, storm clouds replacing the front part of his mind.

Colette, the royal queen bee pain in the ass, sat on one of the chairs, looking very, very pleased. Her eyes were slightly hooded, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Hey, Jace," Colette greeted, her smile growing slightly wider.

Jace gritted his teeth, his eyes searching for Maryse.

"She's on the second floor," Colette said lazily, crossing her legs.

Without saying anything, Jace silently headed towards the staircase. He took the steps two by two and spotted a crown of black peeking out from behind a bookshelf.

"I can't find Clary." Jace said, pushing hair out of his eyes.

"I'm sure she's around somewhere, Jace." Maryse said, distracted as she flipped through a book.

"She's not. I can't find her." Jace said.

"Jace, relax. I'm sure she's around here. Just go take some more time to look for her.

"Jace!" Alec called.

"What?"

"I found Isabelle. But that's not all I found," The tone Alec was using made Jace blood run cold. He sounded horrified and slightly shaken.

"I was just wondering around and I found this splatter of blood on the third floor against one of the doors, Jace," Isabelle said.

"Whose?" Jace asked, almost afraid for the answer.

"I don't know. But Jace, it could be Clary's."

"Whatever it is, I don't think she's in the Institute anymore. I can't track her."

Jace joined Alec and Isabelle on the ground floor.

"How should we -" Isabelle started but cut off at the sound of a howling meow. Jace looked up and saw Church limping into the library, looking more angry and annoyed than hurt. One of its hind legs was bleeding, it's fur there matted with drying blood.

A bracelet hung from Church's mouth. He dropped it at its feet and commenced to licking itself clean.

"What happened, Church?" Jace said as he approached the injured animal. In response, Church hissed and spat angrily before continuing his self cleaning. Jace picked up the bracelet that Church had dropped.

It wasn't anything expensive looking or particularly fancy but a single charm hanged from the metal bracelet. It was the rune for freedom.

It was covered in dirt and blood. Dried blood.

"Ew. Put it back in the greenhouse where it belongs," Colette murmured. She had come closer for a lbook at the bracelet but she was standing a little too close to Jace for her safety.

Before Jace could knock Colette's teeth in, her words registered in his head.

"How did you know this was from the greenhouse?" Jace said slowly. He turned to look at Colette who had paled.

"I guessed." Colette replied quickly.

"Colette." Jace hissed.

Jace glared into Colette's eyes and spotted the slight glint of spite in her eyes. He was about to push her further but Isabelle beat him to it by tackling Colette to the floor.

 **A/N - Hey! What do you think so far? Do you officially hate me?** **Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you like.**


	27. Lion's Den

**Chapter 26 - Lion's Den**

Any girl in that moment in the world would be glad to be called 'a girl' when they fought if they could see the fight Isabelle and Colette were putting up.

Jace threw himself out of the way as Isabelle knocked Colette to the floor, crying out as she did. Colette slammed into one of the angels on the marble desk, Isabelle trying to lay a proper, well aimed punch on Colette's face.

A small, very righteous part of him wanted to pull Isabelle off Colette but the bigger more spiteful side of him made himself stay put and allow the fight to happen.

"Isabelle!" Alec chided hesitantly and reluctantly. Jace could see that his _parabatai_ was sort of, to a certain extent, enjoying the fight even though it went against the Clave rule abiding cells in his body.

Simon, who Jace hadn't noticed before smiled proudly, his glasses sitting on the edge of his nose.

Profanities filled the air, being flung sharply by the girls who looked like they were both trying to stick a seraph blade down each other's throats. The words itselves seemed sharp enough to cut through skin and bone. Colette managed to land a solid kick in Isabelle's abdomen, momentarily kicking Isabelle off her. Isabelle landed in a semi crouch, her expression frighteningly hostile and feral.

Both of the girls, as much as Jace hated to admit, were very good in fighting (though nowhere near to his level of premium skills) so they were practically evenly matched. Isabelle had always been an eager person to learn how to fight - the forms of fighting, the techniques of different martial arts, how to handle multiple weapons with multiple attackers, etc - and she thrived in all of her training while Colette, being from the Ravenshade family which had always been a wealthy Shadowhunter family had probably hired the best trainers they could afford in Idris for Colette.

"Izzy!" Alec said, anger and worry lacing his voice. Isabelle reared back slightly and threw herself onto Colette again.

"What in Raziel's name -? Isabelle Sophia Lightwood!" Maryse shouted as she ran down the steps, looking not at all pleased. "Behave yourself!"

An obscenity was directed _to_ Maryse _from_ Isabelle, making everyone's jaw drop. Isabelle had _never_ cursed at her own mother before and a slight blossoming of admiration mixed with shock flickered in Jace's chest.

" _Excuse me_?" Maryse hissed, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously.

Ignoring Maryse, Isabelle had taken out a dagger that had been nestled in one of her boots and Jace froze.

 _What did she think she was doing_?

" _Izzy! No_!" Simon shouted, stepping forward to stop Isabelle who screamed at him to stay away.

Colette screamed and brought her arm up to block Isabelle's descending arm that had the dagger in it. Isabelle was going to be in big, big trouble if she killed Colette. Not that he minded at the moment if Colette died but he was pretty sure the Consul would do everything in her power to bestow the most agonizing punishment for Isabelle. Robert would have a say in Isabelle's case though only as the Inquisitor and there was only so much he could do to defy the Consul.

"Isabelle!" Jace hissed, advancing forward to pull Isabelle off Colette.

Isabelle's one very long leg shot out, a kick aimed at Jace.

He jumped out of the way, the tip of her boot brushing the fabric of his shirt. "What the hell?" he spat. Colette shoved Isabelle's armed hand hard while she was momentarily distracted. Isabelle's strong grip wavered, loosening ever so slightly.

Isabelle cursed and dropped the dagger - only to catch it with her free unblocked hand and running the sharp blade across Colette's exposed arm. The action was unbelievably lightning fast; Jace's quick trained eyes barely had time to follow her movements. A fresh wound opened up like a crimson ribbon following the blade on Colette's forearm, blood gushing forward like a mild geyser.

Colette cried out, her arm spasming with sudden pain as blood ran thickly down her arm.

Jace exhaled loudly in annoyance before he lunged forward and hooked his own arms under his sister's arms, yanking her off while Alec quickly pulled Colette out from the trapped area she was in.

Isabelle let out an inhuman-like, guttural snarl as she was yanked away from Colette, making everyone with an exception of Jace flinch. He dug his fingernails into Isabelle's arms, willing her to get a grip on her anger. Isabelle struggled against Jace's tight grip, her hair falling wildly into her eyes. She looked like a demented, demon possessed woman being cornered by crucifixes and holy water except instead of shying away from the holy objects, she was thrashing to get to them.

Colette was cradling her injured arm to her chest, glaring heatedly at Isabelle. Blood dribbled from her wound and down her arm, gloving her arm with scarlet. The bottom of her left lip was bruised and swollen, blood dribbling down the side slightly. She was slightly hunched over her stomach, indicating that she had probably been punched there too.

"Let go of me, Jace." Isabelle growled, struggling against his firm grip. Simon darted to Jace's side, looking from Colette to his girlfriend again and again.

"No. Calm down, Izzy." Jace said, tightening his grip on her ever so slightly.

"I'll kill you, Colette. I will." Isabelle hissed in the same way she would swear on the Angel.

"For doing what?" Colette spat.

"You know what happened to Clary." Isabelle hissed and everything about that sentence was forceful, as if there was a secret meaning behind her words.

"Funny you should say that seeing that you -"

"SHUT UP!" Isabelle screeched. Colette laughed bitterly, straightening up slightly.

"I was planning to keep it a secret, I hate that annoying little bitch anyways but I think it would be much more fun if I told them -"

By some miracle, Isabelle wrenched herself free from Jace's hold that could have acted as boa constrictors for all it mattered. Jace reached for her but she was already halfway across the room. She landed a kick with the heel of her boot in Alec's lower abdomen - her own _brother_ who in a, million years Jace thought she would never ever hurt - sending him staggering a few feet away from a wounded and slightly vulnerable Colette.

Isabelle seized Colette by the collar of her jacket, pulling one arm back and swinging it forward. Colette fell to the ground at the same time swiping Isabelle's legs out from under her.

Isabelle groaned and Jace tried to make a grab at Isabelle again. She rolled out of the way and onto Colette, a slight crazed look on her face.

"Get off me you crazy bitch!" Colette spat, landing a hard punch on Isabelle's jaw. Isabelle barely winced.

Jace cursed loudly and the next thing he knew, Isabelle was in his arms again, screaming loudly.

"Let go of me Jace or I swear I will -" Isabelle hissed but was cut off by Colette's shriek of anger.

"You want to know what happened to Clary? I'll tell you." Colette said, sardonicism lacing every word.

Isabelle grew very still, her hands clenching so tightly to the point where they shook violently. Colette shot Isabelle a wicked smile.

"Clary was attacked, drugged with faerie powder and kidnapped in the greenhouse." Colette said, drawing out the suspense like a thick elastic rubber sheet that could have stretched on for miles. Jace could see that Alec was about to punch Colette.

A sick feeling twisted the pits of his stomach and Jace was afraid of what Colette was about to say.

"By the Angel, could you just tell us?" Alec fumed.

Colette smiled icily and Jace rolled his eyes, his grip tightening slightly on Isabelle. "For the sake of satisfying all the formalities, I'm going to ask: Who kidnapped her?" Jace said impatiently, ready to bite Colette's head off.

Colette grinned, blood dribbling down her chin from her split lip and mouth.

Jace leaned forward, waiting to hear the name of the bastard that kidnapped Clary. How he wanted to kill he/she and -

"Isabelle."

Any intention to track down the kidnapper disappeared in a mess down a drain. Surely Jace had heard wrongly; that it couldn't be _Isabelle_ , his _sister_ , Clary's _parabatai_ who attacked and kidnapped her own _parabatai_?

The first thing that Jace did was release Isabelle and stepped away from her, his hands tightening into fists.

"You're lying." Jace hissed, glaring at Colette.

Simon started flat out cursing at Colette and Jace hadn't known he had such lung capacity or that his Jewish brain knew _that_ many swear words.

"How dare you accuse my daughter?" Maryse said angrily.

"Well, I'm sorry if you can't accept that your daughter is a pretty little traitor." Colette said, shrugging. She glared at Isabelle, wiping blood off her chin with the back of her hand.

"She's lying," Isabelle said quietly, her voice muted with anger.

Jace kept his eyes on Colette, internally debating whether he should beat the crap out of Colette until she told the truth.

"Is she lying, Izzy?" Alec said quietly. Jace had almost forgotten that Alec was in the room.

"What -?" Izzy said incredulously but Maryse beat him to it.

"Alexander don't be ridiculous." Maryse said, sounding betrayed.

"I'm not being ridiculous, _mother_." Alec said impatiently. He turned back to look at Izzy measuredly. "Is. She. Lying?"

"Of course she is!" Isabelle growled. "Im your sister Alec. You _know_ me." Isabelle said desperately. Jace looked at Isabelle and to Alec repeatedly. Had he missed something?

"Mom, would you mind fetching a Silent Brother and asking him to bring the Mortal Sword with him?" Alec said, his eyes never leaving his sister.

"Alec what are you -?" Jace said but Alec cut him off.

"Mom. Please." Alec said. "If not for Isabelle, for Colette."

Maryse looked like she was considering until she finally sighed. "Fine."

"Mom! You can't possibly … I'm your daughter?!" Isabelle said, her face as white as a sheet. She licked her trembling lips. Maryse looked at Isabelle with a torn expression. "Momma?" Isabelle whispered.

Maryse froze, her hands clenching. "Isabelle ..." Maryse said, her eyes narrowed. She slowly walked forward until she was right in front of Isabelle.

Maryse raised her hand as if to caress her daughter's face but quick as a strike of lightning, her hand reached into her weapons belt and pulled out a rapier. Maryse took a quick step back and positioned the rapier to Isabelle's throat, nicking the soft skin at the base of her throat.

"Maryse!" Simon gasped in shock, a blade in his hand.

The moment Maryse reached for the rapier, Jace tensed, his own hand darting to his belt, ready to pull free a hunting knife.

"Who are you?" Maryse growled.

Alec had his eyes narrowed, his own hand ready at his belt but Jace was pretty sure that the weapon that he pulled out was not meant for Maryse.

"Mom, it's me, _Isabelle_!"

"Don't lie to me. Isabelle would never call me _momma_. If you could tell me why she doesn't ever call me momma, I may consider not hitting you," Maryse hissed.

Isabelle blinked in shock before a slow smile broke out onto her face.

She reached up - Maryse tensing as Isabelle did so - and slapped the sword away. It flew out of Maryse's hand as if her grip on the hilt hadn't been the grip of a boa constrictor and landed a few feet from where they stood. The sharp blade of the rapier had cut into her palm, thick fat drops of dark blood dripping down her fingers and onto the hardwood. Isabelle stepped back and away from Maryse, carelessly pulling out a dagger from her belt and playing with it.

By this time, Alec and Jace had pulled out their weapons, both flanking Maryse on either side. Simon stood a little behind, unsure of what was going on. Jace held the hunting knife, the tips of his fingers white from the grip he had on his weapon.

 _If_ this girl wasn't Isabelle … where was _Isabelle_?

"Look at your faces!" Isabelle-not-Isabelle said, her eyebrows arched. "I can see Alec and Simon haven't fully gotten it. But you, Jace and Maryse, my darling mother Maryse have gotten the big picture."

"I'm gonna go out on a random limb here and guess that you aren't really Isabelle. The real one was never this literally dramatic." Alec said casually but Jace could hear the underlying tension in his voice. Simon shifted, his breathing deep.

"Where is Isabelle?" Simon demanded.

To their surprise, this fake-Isabelle laughed, a thoughtful look on her face. "Wouldn't you rather know about your darling, darling _Clarissa_?" she said, seductively curving Clary's name.

The mention of Clary made something in Jace snap. He lunged forward, his individual movements blurred even to himself. Half a second later, Jace had pinned Isabelle to the wall of the library, the serrated edge of his knife dangerously close to the main artery in Isabelle's neck.

"Where are they? You tell me or I swear on the Angel Raziel that I will stick this knife in your eye, cut your face open and watch you scramble around for your lost eyeball." Jace threatened softly, his voice low and deadly. "And believe me, that is going to leave _one. Big. Scar._ "

For a moment, Jace reminded himself of Sebastian and his sadistic ways. The thought made his stomach churn but he tried to focus on the demon in front of him.

"If I tell, it won't be much fun for me. Think of it as a treasure hunt, Jace. Your beloved Clary being the priceless treasure, of course. I'm actually going to give you a clue because I was promised fun and thrill but so far it's been very lethargic." fake-Isabelle said, smiling. "Although meeting Jace Herondale almost makes up for it."

" _Where. Are. They_?" Jace said again, saying each word through gritted teeth.

"You can find Clary in the only Church that serves the Devil. Not G-" Isabelle sucked in a sharp breath before her smooth composure returned.

"A church that serves Satan?" Simon echoed in confusion. "Jace, churches are holy places, divine places to worship God. There aren't any that serve the Devil."

Jace exhaled in frustration. "Thank you Simon for that word to word dictionary description of a church."

Isabelle laughed lightly. "I'd love to stay and talk but I should go."

"What -?"

Isabelle reached up, too fast for Jace to see - though he _was_ feeling slightly slow today - grabbed the arm which held the knife to her neck and _twisted._ The knife fell away and clattered to the floor. Isabelle kicked it away, grinning.

Pain shot up Jace's arm and he cursed loudly. On impulse, he brought his uninjured arm up and landed a punch in Isabelle's neck. She hissed, ducking under his injured, twisted arm.

Jace whirled around, quickly tracing an _iratze_ on his forearm before using his uninjured hand to grab a seraph blade from his belt.

Isabelle ducked and spun and avoided every single punch, kick and swing of a weapon that was aimed at her from the New York Shadowhunters. She looked extremely concentrated in running in one direction. Jace looked at what possible exit she could use. She was running away from the main doors and opposite the main doors, on the other side of the room was the windows.

 _Windows_.

"The windows! She's gonna jump through!" Jace screamed and he saw Alec break into sprint, in an attempt to stop her.

Isabelle hopped onto the marble desk, looking at the Shadowhunters that surrounded her. Alec had positioned himself in front of the windows, gripping his seraph blade tightly,

There was something proud and confident and arrogant in her posture as she put a hand on her hip, smiling as if she were a model on runway and she was wearing the star item of the season.

"Wait! You only said Clary. What about Isabelle?" Simon said when he saw that this Isabelle was about to make a run for it again.

Isabelle sighed. "Oh, her, I was hoping to save you grief but the little princess is sadly, dead."

Jace felt the world around him stumble and stop. He felt like he was suspended in time, like everything around him didn't exist, wasn't real.

" _No!_ " Simon screamed, staggering forward. The look on his face described pure horror and disbelief and anguish.

"It's the truth. She dead. In every sense of the word: _dead_."

A million things ran through his mind and he felt his heart stutter and skip several beats. One name ran through his head like a repetitive echo.

 _IzzyIzzyIzzyIzzyIzzyIzzyIzzyIzzyIzzyIzzyIzzy._

And Jace felt himself crack, break and shatter into a million and one pieces. He blindly reached out and managed to grab the back of a chair as he tried to support himself. He felt sick to his stomach.

"How do we know you're not lying?" Alec spat and Jace could see he was shaking with fury.

"Because, my dear, I never lie. But if you do require a piece of evidence: here," she said carelessly, plucking something out from thin air and threw it in Alec's direction. The piece of paper didn't drift to the ground as Jace expected it would. Instead, it flew straight towards Alec who catched it immediately it was in arm's length, staring intently at it. The look on Alec's face confirmed all and Jace felt ice spread through his chest and down his spine. Alec threw what looked like a photo from his hand, backing away from it quickly. It was engulfed in flames the moment the photo left Alec's hand.

"No … no … no." Jace murmured, mainly to himself. The same feeling that overcame him when he had seen Max's dead, cold, lifeless returned again. He blinked for a moment and saw Max, lying pale and lifeless in Robert's arms in Angel Square. How his chest was still and unmoving, how _silent_ he was. And in a sudden, Max's body was replaced with Isabelle's, her hair loose and flowing around her and her pale eyelids shielding her dark brown eyes as her chest stayed still, the heart inside it cold and unbeating. All this happened in a flash, barely half a second before another flurry of images took their places.

This time, the images weren't visions or horrifying creations of his imagination but memories. Memories of him, Alec and Isabelle as children. There were just a flash but they were now brought up front and branded into his mind.

 _"Jace!" Isabelle called, running in pants, chasing after her two brothers. "Alec! Wait for me!"_

 _Jace laughed - he found it easier to laugh nowadays, being around Alec and Isabelle - and stuck his tongue out at Isabelle. Alec shoved him roughly and the two boys rolled around in the hallway. He swung his child-safe seraph blade which could barely hurt a fly (he didn't understand why Maryse refused to give him a real seraph blade. He was as good as a fighter as she was) and Alec blocked his attack with his own seraph blade._

 _"Let me! I want to kick Jace's sorry butt for stealing my birthday food this morning!" Isabelle whined, stepping closer to the two boys. Because Jace wasn't paying attention, Alec finally pinned Jace under him and he grinned at him as he hovered over Jace._

 _Jace turned his head and looked at Isabelle who had her lips pulled into a pout and her arms crossed over her chest angrily._

 _Jace laughed lightly and shoved Alec by the side of his face so he rolled off him and hit the floor with a groan._

 _"You can't," Jace said, getting up. He mimicked Isabelle and crossed his arms over his chest as well._

 _"Why not?" Isabelle whined, glaring at Jace._

 _"Because, one, you're only eleven and a baby." Jace said, looking at his sister._

 _"I'm not a baby! I'm almost as tall as you and I'm smarter than a baby!" Alec chuckled quietly beside Jace, making the blond boy elbow his best friend in the ribs to shut him up._

 _"Okay, maybe not a baby … anyways two, you're a girl and I don't fight girls."_

 _"Sexist pig," Alec muttered. Jace ignored him._

 _"And, you're my sister. You don't have to fight because I'll always be there to protect you."_

"No ..." Jace moaned softly again, pulled from the horrific rollercoaster of memories. He hated that he had made her that promise. "No!" Jace roared. Without thinking, his hand flew to his belt just as the demon with Isabelle's face turned and started to run towards the window again.

The dagger that he had gotten his hand on flew and sliced through the air, burying itself in Isabelle's shoulder. She cursed loudly, staggering again before picking up her pace again.

Jace chest heaved heavily and then he saw Alec standing frozen by the window, his face pale and his hands shaking.

"Alec! Alec, goddammit, move out of the way! _Alec!_ " Jace half-screamed, half-hissed. Alec didn't seem to have heard him.

"How does it feel to lose everyone you love in a day, Jace Herondale?" Isabelle screamed and before Jace could stop to think what she meant, Isabelle rammed into Alec who only had enough time to scream Jace's name before Isabelle jumped through the window, plunging two storeys towards the ground and taking Alec, his parabatai, with her.

 **A/N - Kindly comment all hate, frustrations and feels in the comment section. In the books we don't get too many Jace and Isabelle sibling moments so I just fit in something here. Also Jace doesn't show his affection and care for Isabelle very much but I'm sure he loves her very much so I gave you this chapter! What did you think of this chapter? Thanks for reading!**


	28. The Pain of Death

**Chapter 27 - The Pain of Death**

" _Alec!_ " Jace screamed, the name clawing out of his throat.

He couldn't lose another sibling. Not his parabatai …

The scream of his name that left Alec's mouth was branded into Jace's brain and he couldn't shake the horror it brought on in him.

In the back of his head, Jace couldn't believe it. He refused to believe that Isabelle had brought Alec down with him. Looking out the broken window, Jace saw a bat flying away from the Institute, a glint of silver and gold on its wings. It flapped away like it was injured, one wing faltering every so often.

 _What the - ?_

In the most horrible moment he could have chosen, Magnus ran back into the library, looking flustered.

"What happened? I heard - " Magnus said but Jace had already zoned out.

The fact that Jace would never be able to feel the connection -

Jace froze for a moment. His _parabatai_ connection was still _there_. He didn't feel anything different. Jace ran over to the broken window and peered over the edge.

For a moment, he was afraid that he was wrong, that he was just wrong about the _parabatai_ bond, that he was just too numb to feel it. The last thing he needed to see was Alec's broken body lying on the stone pavement that surrounded the Institute.

Breathing every single praise to the Angel, Jace saw Alec hanging by the tips of his fingers over the edge of the window, grunting.

"Took you long enough," Alec grunted, scowling at his _parabatai_. Jace went to his knees and took Alec's hand, hauling his _parabatai_ up.

If Alec fell now, hanging on by his fingertips, he probably wouldn't die but probably just make it out with a broken or twisted ankle. But if he hadn't managed to catch onto the edge and had fallen at the angle he was falling, Alec would've probably ended up with a cracked or dented skull, a possible broken spine and maybe a broken leg, not surviving the fall. Alec groaned, pulling himself up as well.

"I thought you were a dead-man." Jace said, groaning.

"Alec!" Magnus called in alarm, rushing to his side. Gripping Alec's upper arm while Jace had Alec's hand and forearm, they yanked him up. Alec groaned as he flopped onto solid ground again. He supported his upper body on his elbows as he kneeled on the ground, his breathing heavy.

Slowly, as if he were being mentally attacked, Alec put his head in his hands, his breathing turned ragged like he was inhaling acid.

Now that Alec was safe and after the rush of relief faded away slowly, Jace felt himself shut down, the adrenaline leaving his body, being drained away along with his ability to feel.

" _Isabelle_ ," Alec moaned. The name sliced through Jace and he inhaled sharply, his chest heaving.

"Alec?" Magnus said worriedly, placing a ring laden hand on Alec's cheek. "Tell me what happened? Alexander?"

"Oh God," Alec moaned, ignoring Magnus, as if he were in deep pain. Jace stared blankly at him. In the back of his mind and in the pits of his heart and stomach sharp slivers of despair, anger and anguish were mauling at Jace but he chose to shut down, folding and encasing himself again in the shiny untouchable shield that he had hid behind for sixteen years. It was weaker though, it had been a while since he had used that facade. He had grown out of practice. The shield was more vulnerable - he was more vulnerable. As hard as he tried to feel nothing, he still felt a flicker of cold, dark despair.

"I only thought she was lying. That she was Isabelle, my baby sister and maybe she was under a spell or something - not anything like this," Alec said, burying his face in Magnus's chest while the warlock gently stroked his dark hair. Jace could see that Magnus was extremely confused and had no idea what horrid things had happened.

His heart ached terribly at the sight of Magnus comforting Alec - Jace couldn't help but wish that Clary was not here to comfort him, to hug him and tell him they'd get through this together, that Clary would be there to support him every step of the way.

It was hard to believe how much gentle care and love there was in a gesture as simple as hugging, stroking the hair of someone you love or caressing their cheek but Jace could see it and he understood.

Something that felt like it was only yesterday when it happened replayed in his mind. Things weren't completely peachy after the war. Clary fell into a short depressed and became emotionally unstable state but Jace was there for her, made sure she got back to her feet. Jace remembered the little kisses he would plant on Clary when she was down - racked with guilt over the fallen Shadowhunters who died in the war - the hugs he gave her when she cried, the gentle caresses on her cheeks to soothe her.

If she was hurt, it felt like he was the one hurting but twofold.

Jace shot Magnus a look that said _I'll-explain-later._ Magnus nodded, his forehead creased. Jace looked around, slowly getting to his feet as if he was moving in slow motion and time was slowing down.

Simon was kneeling on the floor a few feet away, his head bowed as he stared at his hands. A bloody but shallow gash that Jace didn't recall seeing Simon get ran from his left collarbone to his sternum, his black shirt ragged and blood stained.

Slowly wobbling over to them, Maryse was pale-faced, her lips trembling as she fought the urge to cry. It was rare - almost nonexistent - to see Maryse Lightwood cry. The last time he had seen his mother cry was when … Max passed away.

It was one thing for a mother to lose one child but to lose two - Jace couldn't imagine or comprehend what Maryse felt.

All Jace wanted to do now was honestly hunt down the bastards that killed his sister and kidnapped his Clary and doing God-knows-what with her - the thought chilled Jace to the marrow - and break every Clave law that banned him from torturing or killing Nephilim-slaying criminals without the permission of the Clave. He was going to do more than kill them - Jace couldn't be as lenient as that. He wanted to destroy every single atom in their bodies and apply every single method of torture he knew of to them. The same white hot fiery rage and hatred that he had held for Sebastian returned, only this time, a teensy bit hotter.

Maryse crumbled beside Alec, pulling Jace down with her. Magnus pulled back and backed away slightly, giving the woman some space. Maryse hugged both her sons tightly, her head on Alec's shoulder and the hand that was around Jace's neck was fisted tightly in his shirt.

Jace brought one hand and gently rubbed Maryse's back, hoping the gesture would calm or soothe her. Jace didn't feel the urge to cry. He was too filled with hatred to cry.

"My boys … my sons … my boys ..." Maryse whispered, her voice barely a whisper.

Over Maryse's shoulder, Jace saw Simon sort-of talking to Magnus. He had moved from the floor to one of the chairs and his head was still bowed, his palms facing upwards. Magnus awkwardly patted Simon's shoulder and knelt down next to him, his lips moving quickly as he said something to Simon.

Colette watched all of them, her face white as a sheet as she cradled her injured arm to her chest. Her face was mildly horrified, her mouth open as she stared at the broken window.

"Mom," Jace said, pulling away. He got to his feet, his teeth gritted as he started walking towards the door.

"Jace, where are you going?" Alec said. Jace could hear Alec staggering to his feet. A hand clapped over his shoulder a few seconds later, like it could stop his walking. Jace stopped walking on his own will and turned around to look at Alec.

"I'm going to get Clary back." Jace said, with as much calm he could muster. Jace could hear how cold and tense he really sounded and Alec could too.

"How?" Alec said softly. "You have _no idea_ where Clary is. A church that serves the devil? That's _extremely_ helpful." Alec said, pulling out _extremely_ with sarcasm.

"I may have an inkling on this church." Jace said, hoping that his intuition was right. The church that was forming in his mind had only been mentioned once by the two people that were both gone in two different ways.

"How?" Alec asked.

"Just trust me, Alec. Okay?"

Alec looked at Jace, searching his eyes. Finally, Alec sighed, looking deflated and tired. "Okay."

"First, we're gonna need weapons." Jace said, his jaw gritting.

"You coming Simon? Magnus, mom?" Alec said, turning around. Hesitantly, Alec turned to look at a very silent Colette. "Colette?"

She looked up, startled that Alec had called her. Her curly blond hair bounced as she did and Jace saw a raw almost _pure_ look in her face now. There was no trace of the hard edged, arrogant and plain bitchy look she always wore.

"Um … maybe." she said, biting her lip. She actually looked lost for a moment "Let me just … excuse me." Colette muttered, pushing past Jace without so much as a glance or finishing her sentence before scampering away.

Jace shrugged Colette's out-of-character attitude, still too numb to every other emotion and feeling except hate and anger. In his mind, he still felt slightly lost, like his mind did not know how to cope with such immense feelings of grief and anger.

"Alec, you two go ahead. I have to inform the Clave about this." Maryse said wearily like she had aged a decade for every second since they found out Isabelle was dead.

"You mean Robert." Alec said, his voice restrained.

"I mean the Clave. I'll tell your father after that." Maryse said with a set jaw.

Simon joined Jace and Alec, looking very calm though his hands were clenched into trembling fists. He nudged his glasses up before a taking a deep breath that sounded so shaky you would think he had a punctured lung.

There was something off about Simon's calm demeanor. Jace could see the barely contained simmering rage and grief in his eyes.

"Alec darling, you go ahead. I'll join you later." Magnus said, his tone sad and empathetic.

Just as they left the library, Jace heard Maryse sob Isabelle's name once before Magnus's calming voice, much to soft for Jace to hear, tried to give comfort to Maryse.

Jace could barely tell the difference between his movements and time. One moment he was walking in the dim hallways that equally matched his mood and the next Jace found himself sliding a seraph blade into his belt in the weapons room.

Alec was busying himself by examining a sheath quiver of arrows. "Iron, silver, blessed metal ..." Alec muttered as he looked at the arrowheads. He slung a bow over his shoulder and strapped the quiver of arrows across his back. He grabbed several seraph blades and slipped them into his belt. Jace continued sliding blades, daggers and knives into every vacant and available pocket and sheaths he had on him.

He slid his stele into the small loop on his thigh sheath which was specially made for keeping steles and an extra stele into the loop next to it. Who knew when you would need an extra stele?

Jace grabbed a _sacrificium_ , a blade specially made by the Iron Sisters solely for the use of Shadowhunters. No mundane or Downworlder could hold the blade unless they'd fancy being short of an arm. Or two. Depending on how they held it. Not a lot of _sacrificium_ blades were made by the Iron Sisters. He had been told that _sacrificium_ blades were extremely hard to make though extremely efficient against demons.

In a form of thanks for killing Sebastian Morgenstern, the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute had received a bundle of recently made _sacrificium_ blades. The Iron Sisters had made them shortly after the war, in case of another war.

How it worked or why nothing but a Shadowhunter could hold it Jace had no idea.

 _Sacrificium_ meant _sacrifice_ in Latin but Jace couldn't see anything sacrificial about the blade.

The Iron Sisters were as secretive as the Silent Brothers and seeing that not only would he never be able to pass the application form to become an Iron Sister but he decided he could live a long and happy life not knowing.

"Is that a crossbow?" Alec said. Jace looked up, slipping the _sacrificium_ into a sheath. Simon held a silver and wood crossbow in his hands, examining it like it was a true specimen.

"Yes, Alec." Jace said impatiently.

Alec nodded, eyeing the weapon like he was about to steal it.

"I feel like we're going to war." Alec muttered. Jace noticed, as Alec tore his eyes away from the crossbow and to the seraph blades before him and sliding them into his belt that every single action that his _parabatai_ did was more deliberate and unnecessarily rough.

"We are," Jace muttered, sliding a rapier into its scabbard. Feeling like he was efficiently equipped with weapons, Jace started to pace, his mind working like clockwork, everything whirring and clicking in his head.

He remembered something Hodge had told him when he was fifteen, something about a mass murdering of Shadowhunters. His brain worked faster, connecting the dots and fitting the puzzle pieces together.

"Are we good to go?" Simon said.

"Yes. But go where...exactly?" Alex said, looking at Jace with an arched eyebrow.

"I may have an idea on whee. But first, I need to go get something from the library." Jace said, tension thick in his throat.

"Okay then. Let's go." Alec said, his eyes hard.

Maryse was talking heatedly on the phone, her voice cracking every so often as she tried to choke down tears when they got into library.

"You listen to me! No! _You. Listen. To. Me_!" Maryse growled. "You _will_ send reinforcements and an investigation team or I swear I _will_ make the remaining of whatever sad pathetic term you have left on the Council _hell_." Maryse bellowed, her voice completely authoritative. No was not an option. Maryse slammed the receiver and exhaled angrily, collapsing into the chair behind her.

Jace wondered who she had been talking to. Robert? The Consul?

She looked up at them, her eyes sad. Her cheeks were flushed, the rest of her pale and sick looking. "Are you going?"

"Almost. We need to check on something." Jace muttered. He went to one of the shelves, his hands skimming the spines of leather bound and hardcover books. He wasn't looking for anything about devil worshippers or devil worshipping sites. He was looking for something quite opposite.

"You told them?" Jace heard Alec say.

"Yes. They aren't happy and I may be in trouble." Maryse said, exhaling in frustration.

Jace, not being able to find the book he wanted cursed loudly. "Maryse, do you know of this story about a mass murdering of Shadowhunters about ten years ago. It was supposedly on holy ground?" Jace said before Maryse could scold him for using a vulgar obscenity in front of her.

"Not many people know what really happened. Actually, I doubt anybody really does. There was just a lot of bodies and blood in this half built church. I don't think it ever finished building. It was all the way in Ireland, if I'm not mistaken." Maryse said, looking at Jace with a look that asked _where-are-you-going-with-this_?

"And they were murdered by demons right?" Jace said slowly, hoping his assumption was right.

"Yes. Demonic ichor was found and lots of ashes." Maryse said as-a-matter-of-a-factly.

"But demons can't step foot on hallowed ground." Alec said, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"Well, it _is_ an unfinished church. Maybe the holiness doesn't apply until it's fully built." Simon suggested in a monotone.

"It still applies. Interesting, isn't it?" Jace said. "Hodge told me about this before. I quite frankly remember him saying about how that church wasn't all saint, that it was supposed to serve a different purpose so it wasn't really hallowed ground."

"I take it we're going to Ireland?" Alec said.

"Not yet. We're going to need to get some other things if we're going to face God-knows-what in Ireland." Magnus said, standing in the doorway of the library. For a moment, an image of a hideous leprechaun wielding a knife popping into Jace's head. "Better be safe than sorry."

To his surprise, Jace found himself staying silent. He wanted to protest, say how little time they had, that Clary could be dead for all they knew -

Jace took a deep breath as that fact threatened to knock the breath out of him. Magnus had a point. They had no idea what they were walking into. Going unprepared wouldn't do Clary, or them, much good.

"Be careful, all of you. I can't lose another child." Maryse said quietly. Alec comfortingly kissed his mother on the forehead before turning to leave. Maryse caught Jace's eyes and bored her blue ones into his gold ones meaningfully. He nodded, trying to smile but failing.

Magnus met them by the library doors, immediately taking Alec's hand comfortingly.

"Colette's not coming, by the way. I knocked on her door earlier and she told me she practically yelled in my face to piss off." Magnus said, sounding angry and slightly annoyed. "The Clave is going to question Maryse. Actually, all of you aren't supposed to go but Maryse is going to cover up for you people." There was a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. Maryse must have told him everything about what happened to Isabelle.

Simon scoffed. "I didn't expect more from Colette."

"Jocelyn?" Jace asked.

"I haven't told her." Magnus said simply. Jace felt a small sense of relief and indecisiveness blossoming in his chest. If he told Jocelyn, the woman would blame him, keep Clary away from him when they got her back and possibly try to kill him. If he didn't tell Jocelyn, she'd get mad, blame Jace, try to kill him and _still_ keep Clary away from him. "We haven't got time anyways."

Jace decided to save himself the drama now for later and kept quiet about telling Jocelyn. "C'mon. We need to hurry." he said, not wanting to dwell on the topic any longer. "Maryse will probably tell her anyways."

Jace stabbed at the button for the elevator impatiently, running his hand through his hair again.

"I used a little magic to identify the blood that was left behind by her and it was ichor. Mixed with vampire blood." Magnus said, looking troubled.

"Vampire blood and demon ichor? How the hell did that demon thing have mixed blood?" Alec said stubbornly.

Jace felt himself sway slightly and he reached and managed to latch onto someone who Jace assumed was Alec.

"Are you okay, Jace?" Alec asked, his voice raw with worry.

"I'm fine," Jace muttered, just as the ancient elevator dinged, signalling its arrival.

 _I think so_ , Jace thought doubtfully as he stepped in.

 _Knock._

" _Answer it but don't open the door._ "

Colette gulped, feeling the tip of the dagger on the base of her neck. An arm was hooked around her arm, holding her in place and in a position that should Colette try to move or jerk away, her arm could be easily broken with a hard jerk of her attacker.

She had been getting ready, throwing on gear and equipping herself with her secret stash of seraph blades when she had felt the cold metal of the blade of a dagger being pressed painfully into the soft flesh at her neck and her body completely immobilized. Her legs had froze, not out of shock or anything on her accord and a heavy weight had been placed on her chest.

Colette had been ready to help hunt Isabelle's killer. She didn't particularly like Isabelle but that was only because the dark haired girl had been mean and cruel to her since the first day she was shipped from her beautiful France to this cold hellhole. She had thought that maybe, if she could help hunt down Isabelle's killer and Clary's kidnapper, she would be forgiven for whatever wrong she had done to everyone in the Institute and finally fit in. Finally be accepted instead of being some pest that they were forced to live with.

"Who is it?" Colette said, feeling the pressure of the blade lighten ever so slightly.

"It's Magnus. Are you coming?" Magnus's voice said from outside. The pressure of the blade increased, dangerously close into cutting into the skin.

"Um, no." Colette said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart was pounding in her chest, threatening to grind through her ribs and pop out of her chest.

"What?"

"No. I'm not." she said, a little more volume to her sentence.

"Colette, we need your - "

"Look, Magnus, I'm not going, okay?" Colette said, feeling the blade of the dagger biting into her skin. She tried to ignore the hot, sharp stinging sensation on her neck. "I've got better things to do anyways. Go tell your _sweetpea_ \- " Colette tried to put as much sarcasm and spite and disgust in that one word. Usually, it was easy. Homosexual relationships shouldn't be allowed in the Clave and Colette felt rather uncomfortable around homosexual people but this time the spite and disgust didn't really sound _right_. " - that I send my condolences and to drop by for a pity condolence gift basket later."

Magnus cursed loudly at her before stomping away. Colette hoped that Magnus hadn't cursed her or anything. For the first time ever, the words that left her mouth made her feel _guilty_.

She felt warm blood trickle down her chest and soak into her cotton shirt.

Her attacker laughed. "You can't seriously be feeling sorry? Colettia Anabella Ravenshade feeling sorry for others?" her attacker scoffed. Her attacker, who was a girl from the tone of her voice had a voice that was silvery, elegant and graceful like wind chimes in a breeze and there was a trace of a British accent. Her laugh was tinkly and breathy, completely amused at the fact that Colette felt sorry for others and regretted.

"How did you know my full name - ?"

"I know everything about you, sweetheart. But before I break out into a full autobiography of you, let's get you away from this hellhole, shall we?"

Colette felt her knees buckle and she found herself lying on the floor of her bedroom, staring at her white ceiling. An intense feeling of lethargy enveloped Colette and she felt her eyelids droop, growing heavier and heavier.

"Sorry, darling. It's for your own good."

Colette felt herself being dragged up and being plunged into oblivion.

 **A/N - I hope this eases your pain slightly from the last chapter! I have to say your comments were very amusing xD Anyway … what did you think? How do you think this is going to end?**


	29. With A Passion

**Chapter 28 - With A Passion**

Clary dreamt.

Dreamt of a boy with white hair and black eyes - eyes as soulless and remorseless as the devil's. All planes and angles in his features. Blood dripped from his hands and pooled around his bare feet, crimson against the pale skin. There was a cold beauty to him, in the way he stood and how he looked and a certain dangerous aura that made Clary want to shy away - run and cower and close her eyes. He wore a plain white shirt which could have been innocent enough if not for the shredded and burnt patches in his short and the light smears of blood.

She also dreamed of a boy blessed with a halo of gold hair and eyes burning fiery gold, hard and arrogant. His mouth was set in a hard, stubborn grit, his eyelids slightly hooded. He looked like the exact image of a fallen angel, too beautiful to comprehend, thrown down from Heaven in his arrogance and pride. This boy was far too beautiful to resist. Everything about him was heart shattering. His skin wasn't unmarked; runes curled around his arms and light cuts decorated his bare arms. There even was beauty to his scars and cuts. He wore a plain black shirt with several places scorched and smoking slightly.

Both of them looked like they had just crawled out from the pits of hell.

Clary watched the both of stand apart from each other, backs facing each other, both staring at Clary with blank eyes. She watched them both and her heart ached with sadness, like it was tearing itself apart.

She had dreamt of them both before but there was something different to this dream. It was like how someone could sense the change in the weather.

Two names bubbled to and tumbled from her lips; one foreign to her and the other brought a wealth of pain and ache to it.

"Jonathan. Jace, " Clary whispered. The one named Jonathan, the fair haired boy's eyes filled with recognition at his name. He blinked as if in a daze and slowly, Clary watched as his eyes turned a vibrant green - the same green orbs that she had. His were filled with astonishment, sadness, love and confusion. They focused on her kneeling state, growing wide.

"Clary," he whispered, astonished. "Clarissa is that you?" he asked a little louder, stepping forward.

The cold beauty had melted away, his eyes filling up with emotion and soul. He slowly approached Clary and knelt before her. His hand was slowly brought up and he caressed her cheek gently, the look of pure astonishment still on his features. Jace watched them from where he stood, sadness replacing the lifelessness in his eyes.

The fear and repulsion he felt towards him cracked. "Jonathan," Clary said again, tasting the unfamiliar name on her lips. A sense of horror and overwhelming sadness threatened to bury and suffocate Clary. A tear rolled down her cheek and Jonathan hastily rubbed it away with his thumb, his forehead creasing with concern.

"Hey," Jonathan hushed. "Don't cry."

Clary felt baffled by her actions and emotions. She was feeling things that were ridiculous for her to feel towards an utter, complete stranger but she couldn't help the sadness and grief and pain and resentment she was feeling. She looked at him and she sobbed - sounding so, so broken that the sound was painful to her own ears.

 _What was she doing?_

Warm, reassuring arms went around her, holding her closer to this boy. She wanted to push him away and run and hide but instead she clutched him close like this was the last time she was ever going to see him. The thought, for some reason, was despicable and unmentionable to Clary. She felt warm drops of liquid falling onto her shoulder and she pulled back, looking at her shoulder in surprise.

To her surprise, Jonathan was crying, his cheeks tear stained. "Clary," he breathed, as if she were some miracle sent by God.

Clary was very aware that Jace was watching them. Jonathan craned his head around and smiled lightly when he saw Jace. Slowly, Clary watched as Jace started to fade, his corporeal form fading. Clary could see through Jace and in seconds, Clary could only see his amber eyes before they disappeared too.

"Don't worry. He isn't really here. I'm not even sure if _you_ are really here." Jonathan said, a dazed, disbelieving look on his face.

"I … I don't know what's going on." Clary murmured, looking at Jonathan.

"I know. I'm sorry, Clary. Even when I'm lying in ashes at the bottom of Lake Lyn I'm still messing your life up."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid I have no time to explain. All this, you can figure it out. You're smart and so is Jace. He'll help you." Jonathan said and now realization was dawning in his eyes.

"I don't want any help from Jace." Clary said, trying to sneer his name but it only managed to come out as a choked whisper.

"So stubborn." Jonathan muttered. "He loves you, more than he or you knows. And you do too. You just have to remember."

"He doesn't love me," Clary persisted quietly, the words like poison in her mouth.

Jonathan scoffed. "Even a blind fool with no sense of hearing can _feel_ the love he has for you. Quite frankly, the way he talked about you used to give me goosebumps and made me want to stick a _kindjal_ through his tongue."

"There is a reason the blind guy is a fool, isn't he?" Clary muttered, ignoring the horrifying mental picture of Jace being stabbed in the tongue.

Jonathan looked at her in amusement. He muttered something that sounded like ' _duck Valentine_ '

"The Angel Ithuriel sent me, actually. He said to give you this." Jonathan said. He closed his palms together and when he opened them again, a small flame flickered in his palms. It was beautiful, magical and divine, for a lack of a better words. It flickered a hundred different colors, all vibrant and full of life, accompanied by a bright gold and orange outline, the color of mundane flames but beautiful still. Clary felt the urge to reach out and touch the flame but deftly refrained herself from doing so.

"What is it?" Clary said in wonder. She couldn't remember seeing anything more beautiful.

"A flame, to say the least. Look at the middle." Jonathan said, looking at the flame in his palms with muted wonder. The fire didn't seem to be burning him.

Clary did and saw a design forming in the middle in bright gold. It was a design of several curled lines converging into a circle and a matrix of overlapping points. It was intricate, beautiful and familiar. She had seen the design before but she couldn't remember where.

"What is that?" Clary said, staring as the design flickered amongst the fire.

"It's a Mark. But it doesn't work here. When you wake up, you need to do whatever you can to get to a stele and _draw._ " Jonathan pressed. The flame disappeared in a burst of sparks, leaving Clary staring at Jonathan's pale palm. He gently lifted his hand and stroked her hair lovingly. It almost felt brotherly.

"I feel like I haven't said sorry enough," Jonathan sighed. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead before pulling back, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"I regret. Just so you know. I regret all. I regret that I didn't get to know my little sister. That I couldn't be your annoying brother that you could count on either way."

Clary stared at him, sadness heavy in her chest. "Wha - ?"

"I'm sorry, Clary. Whatever you do don't give up." Jonathan said, smiling sadly. "I'm sorry, sister."

Slowly, everything was breaking away, the whole image before her cracking and breaking into pieces before fading away into nothingness. She felt herself fall and tumble through a closing, rushing darkness. A pair or green eyes watched her sadly before they faded away, leaving Clary alone and falling.

Her whole body jerked as if she had been electrocuted and when Clary slowly peeled her eyes open, she was not staring at the green eyes of Jonathan but at a crack ceiling of brown and gray.

Clary inhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. She was lying on a cold hard and painfully uncomfortable surface which felt like cement.

She sat up, her bones screaming in protest and looked around.

She was in what she could only call a cell. It was shaped like a curved semi circle with a sink in the corner and the slab of cement protruding from the wall which she was sitting on. The cell wasn't big width wise but it was deep, roughly two times the length of a normal cell.

Bars of bright pure lights that ran looking like electric currents formed the cell bars. They were the only source of light Clary had. She guessed that they were probably pure energy, not something you could break or dent by throwing something at it which, in this case was probably Clary herself as she was the heaviest and biggest thing in here.

Her eyes started to prickle after a while of staring at the cell bars. She looked away, feeling oddly calm for someone that had been kidnapped and betrayed. The thing that had shaken her the most was the dream she had.

She leaned back against the wall, bringing her legs up. Someone had wrapped her feet with a light covering of bandages. She shifted her hands which were beginning to feel slightly cramped when she felt something tug her left hand down and heard the light clank of metal against metal. A heavy looking manacle was locked around her wrist, the chain pooling atop itself lightly on the floor. The end of the heavy chain was buried deep in the wall Clary was leaning on.

Curiously, Clary gave her chain a yank with her right hand and the chain pulled taut and sturdy, no sign of ever coming loose from the wall.

She shifted and moved her aching wrist which was in the manacle, feeling the rough metal brush and irritate the skin.

She decided to just ignore the manacle. She found that the more she thought of something, the more it bothered her. Instead, she decided to revisit her dream.

The image of the colorful flame flickered in her mind. She thought of the Mark, what it was. Then she thought of the fair headed boy with the sad green eyes: Jonathan.

The last words he said to her echoed in her mind.

 _I'm sorry, sister._

Who was he to Clarissa Fairchild? Was he her brother? What happened to him? Why did Jace never mention anything to her about her brother?

So many questions but no answers. Clary exhaled in frustration. Her fingers felt like they were itching to grip a pencil and a sketchbook and draw. She also wanted to get her hands on a stele and draw the Mark as instructed but she doubted it would be easy, if not impossible to get her hands on a stele. Maybe if she asked really nicely …

Clary got up and started to pace, her chain clinking and shifting as she moved. She looked up at the cell bars and slowly approached them.

Just as she was about five feet from the bars, her chain painfully pulled taut, the manacle rubbing and scratching painfully on her skin. With the lights she got from the bars, she could see that skin of her wrist was irritated and itchy and dotted with red. The manacle wasn't exactly fine cut metal. It was uneven and slightly sharp and jagged around the edges. She shifted her hand uncomfortably and the rough manacle scratched her skin again.

Stepping a few inches back as so not to yank in the manacle again, Clary reached her free arm out, trying to grip the bars as an experiment to see if they would hurt her. No matter how hard she tried, the manacle wouldn't allow her to go near the bars or touch them, putting at least three inches of space between any body part she reached out and the bars.

A small sense of desperation, dread and panic started to set in, the feelings that should have overtook her from the moment she woke up finally appearing.

Going as far as the manacle allowed her to and ignoring the uncomfortable sharp pains and irritation the movements brought on, Clary tried to see what was around her cell beside the cell opposite her that was being illuminated with the light from her bars. The bars of the cell opposite hers were a bright shining metal and, unfortunately, empty.

The bars of her cell managed to illuminate several other cells in the opposite row, all empty and without inhabitants and that was all she could see. No turnings into other corridors or entrances into rooms or gates that led the way out of this dreary place.

Hopelessness joined the party of depressing and panicked feelings. Slowly, Clary shuffled back to her cement bed and sat there, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her stick thin legs.

She had no idea whatsoever on how to escape this horror. Her mind thought up several possibilities on how she could escape this place.

One, she could try throwing the sink at the cell bars and hope that they broke. Two, she could pretend to play dead until someone - anyone - came in to check on her. Then she could knock the person out cold and hoped that this person had the key to her torturous manacle. If she managed to unlock the manacle, she would try to be as Shadowhunter like as she could and try to escape this entire facility, wherever it was.

Her mind raced with a dozen ridiculous possibilities that made her want to laugh. She would have if only she wasn't so full of dread. What did they - whoever they were - want from her?

Time didn't seem to exist in Clary's cell. She could have been staring at the dirty ceramic sink for minutes or hours. There was no way to tell time in here. There were no windows that allowed Clary a peek into the outside world or clocks. Time couldn't have been passing at all, for all Clary knew.

She studied the layer of slimy dark green and brown fungi that was covering the base of the sink and the crack that measured from the top to the midway mark.

The only thing that marked the passing of time was when Clary heard the sound of high heels against the stone floor beneath her feet. She sat up straight in anticipation, her legs brushing the floor again.

"Hello, Clary."

The person that came into view was a woman, looking no older than thirty-five. She carried an air of confidence and grace and calm that was unnerving and intimidating with her. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black and her pale lips were pulled into a small proud smile. Bleached white blond hair tumbled in soft curls to her shoulders. She had cheekbones that looked sharp enough to cut through butter.

She wore black Shadowhunter gear except that the tank top she was wearing was red and so were her fingerless gloves. The combination of black and red was ridiculously intimidating on this woman. Clary saw the glint of weapons on her belt and her boots.

"Nice to see you're awake." the woman cooed.

A string of profanities echoed through the dungeons, screamed by a very familiar voice. The fair haired woman exhaled angrily.

"Give me a moment." she said sweetly to Clary before barking the name " _Fria_!" loudly.

Clary's eyes nearly dropped out of her sockets when Isabelle, the bloody traitor, skipped over to the woman, her shoulder bleeding and her hair a kinky mess.

Something inside Clary exploded and she lunged off her cement bed, her thoughts hell bent on choking the living lights out of Isabelle.

" _How could you betray them?_ " Clary hissed. Her manacle pulled taut harshly and she was yanked back slightly. She felt the manacle cut into her skin and slowly she felt warm blood trickle down her hand and dripping onto the floor.

Isabelle scowled, rolling her eyes at Clary. "Shut up." she hissed, flipping Clary off. "You called, my _suzerain_?"

Clary tried to charge forward again but her manacle held her back, cutting into her wrist.

"There's no need to be rude, Fria. You don't have to keep the bluff up. She won't tell, will you Clary?" the fair haired woman said gently, smiling.

"I don't?" Isabelle said, sounding relieved. "It's tiring, you know." she muttered.

"I know," the fair haired woman said sympathetically.

Clary watched in shock as Isabelle started to change. Her hair turned a shiny copper brown that reached the middle of her back. Her height decreased by a few inches and she looked less striking in her beauty. She looked almost childlike in her height and the innocence that was displayed upon her face.

The clothes she wore now looked out of place on her petite figure which was smaller than Clary's. Her clothes were all too big and baggy for her but she didn't seem to mind. She turned to look at Clary, her wide eyes no longer black but a startling shade of what could have been light grey or light blue.

She grinned at Clary and nothing about that grin wasn't anywhere near childlike or innocent. It sent chills down her spine but Clary kept a straight face.

"You're even more pathetic looking than I remember." she said, cocking her head to a side. Her voice had changed too. It was now more raspy and seductive, something that didn't suit the innocence her face portrayed.

"Who are you?" Clary whispered. If this wasn't Isabelle, where was _Isabelle_? " _What are you?_ "

"I'm many things, Clare bear. I'm a drama queen, I'm beautiful, I'm seductive, I'm manipulative, I'm good in bed, I'm sadistic and I'm also _very_ hungry," she growled the last two words, eyeing Clary's bleeding wrist like it was the turkey at a Thanksgiving Dinner.

"What have you done with Isabelle?" Clary said, afraid for her answer. Fria only smiled sickeningly, her lips curling deviously.

"Go take care of our other guest, Fria." the fair haired woman said gently, stroking Fria's hair. "I'll take it from here."

Fria looked up at the fair haired woman, her lip slipping into a pout before turning away and silently disappearing.

"Guest?" Clary scoffed, looking at the fair haired woman with narrowed eyes.

The fair haired woman looked at her, smiling coldly. "Yes. Why?"

"I would hardly call myself a guest."

"With us, everyone is a guest. Anyone who isn't a guest wouldn't be here at all." she said as she reached into her pocket and withdrew a stele. Unlike the ones she had seen being used by the New York Shadowhunters, this stele was red unlike the white ones she was used too. The tip of the stele was applied to one of the bars and she began to draw.

Sparks flew as the stele made contact with the bars, making the most chilling sound that sounded like metal being dragged across stone.

The bars parted and the fair haired woman stepped through before closing again the moment she stepped through. She swiftly slipped her stele back into her pocket before looking at Clary measuredly. Clary took a few steps back, unnerved by being so close to her. She kept an eye on the pocket that contained the stele, thinking of ways she could get the stele.

"I'd rather not be your guest." Clary said quietly.

The woman's eyes visibly darkened. She took a step forward, scrutinising Clary. "Do you know the honour you're doing? Being a guest, that is a privilege limited to only a chosen few." she said, sounding slightly offended but Clary knew that wasn't the case.

"And what have you chosen me for?" Clary said, trying to not sound like she was going to pass out. She eyed the pocket again before quickly looking back at the terrifying woman in front of her.

"You, my dear, are going to be the start of all of it." she said, looking at Clary with a sort of admiration.

"The start?"

"Well, the start of _my_ vision. I'm going to finish what _he_ started but with a bit. More. _Bang_." she smiled widely, looking like a demented witch. "And all I need from you is your full commitment. _Willingly_. I also need about a chalice of your blood and of course your soul to bind it all which will have to be, of course, given willingly as well." she said casually, like she was ticking ingredients of a shopping list. Her entirety being the market.

"There is no way you're going to get me to _willingly_ do any of that for you." Clary spat. This woman had to be crazy if she thought Clary would willingly give herself up for something that had killed her mother and had tried to kill her several times as well. She eyed the tip of the red stele that peeked out from the pocket, her hand now itching to grab hold onto it.

"Trust me, you are going to want to be willing." she said in a monotone. "It's quite simple, Clary. All I need is some blood and your soul. A small price to pay for what I'm striving for."

Clary could see herself in her mind lunging for the stele and drawing the rune she had seen. It _had_ to be a rune that could've helped. She just prayed it did work. She nibbled on the inside of her lip, seeing the rune flash in her mind again.

To the woman, Clary must have looked like she was considering because her face brightened expectantly, awaiting Clary's answer.

"Never." Clary said. The disappointment and anger on the woman's face was instantaneous but it quickly changed to surprise when Clary made a grab for the stele that was nestled in her pocket. She shrieked, surprised as Clary's hand grasped around the top of the stele. Her hand grabbed it and she was about to yank it out when a sharp, hot flash of pain shot through her cheek, her vision blurring and going white for a moment.

Her grasp on the stele loosened, the stele slipping from her fingers and she staggered backwards before losing her balance. Clary felt her elbows and thighs hit the cold floor of her cell, pain shooting up her elbows. Her cheek _burned_ and her head was spinning. She put her head on her hands, wishing that the pain would stop.

"Clary!" she said loudly, disbelief and admiration in her voice. "You sly bitch!"

"I'm … not … a mirror." Clary gasped, her cheek flaring with pain with each word.

"You may not be but you've got guts!"

When Clary looked up, she was alone in the cell again. The woman was standing outside of her cell, her eyes narrowed at Clary. Suddenly, she grimaced before laughing lightly.

"I hate to break this to you but that's gonna leave a scar on your pretty pretty face. It's not too big so a little compact powder will do." she said sympathetically. "The beauty of melted demon metal nail polish."

She held up the back of her hand towards Clary and she saw that the woman's nails glinted slightly. She must have gotten backhanded by the woman when she had tried to grab the stele. She sat up and brought the tips of her fingers to her burning cheek. She probed the painful spot and winced as the pain flared with contact. It didn't feel too big, just a small scratch that felt about a centimeter and a half long.

"Now, Clary. I'm going to give you … twenty minutes to think over your decision. I'll be back and you'll give me your answer, which, for the sake of your well being, mental and physical, that it's yes."

Smiling lightly like all was right in the world, the woman turned to leave humming the melody of a kid's nursery as she left, the sound echoing off the walls of the dungeon, slowly morphing the once cheerful song into a depressing off key melody.

 **A/N - Hi! Okay, so we have about seven or eight more chapters (epilogue included) before this book is finished. What do you think so far? Leave me a comment if you like!**


	30. Persephone

**Chapter 29 - Persephone**

Jace landed on the balls of his feet before slipping into a crouch to stabilize himself. He looked around as he straightened out, his eyebrows furrowing.

The Portal had taken him to an empty, quiet lane. Some shops were open, light spilling from them. On a closer inspection, Jace realised that they were shops that sold kinky outfits and erotic movies. If he wasn't in such a pissed off, grave mood, Jace would have grinned and a slideshow of vulgar images would unfold in his head.

Alec and Simon, who had been the first two to enter the Portal had their heads and eyes cast downwards, their cheeks flushed a bright red.

Magnus appeared beside Jace and the Portal closed. The warlock looked around, his eyes scanning the shops.

"Magnus, _where exactly_ are we?" Alec said, glaring at his boyfriend.

"Amsterdam." Magnus said, casually. "Near the Red Light District, to be accurate."

" _What_? What are we doing in _Amsterdam_?"

"We're going to get some insight." Magnus said and took off in a direction down the street.

Jace, silently followed, his eyes every so often peeking up for a glance at the stores. His mind was flying everywhere - whether Clary was still alive, if she was alright, would they be alright, where were they going. They were the questions that made Jace want to fall to the ground and break into a million pieces.

He remembered an old conversation he had with Alec and felt a lump rise in his throat as he tried to hold himself together

" _Doing okay? How would you be doing? How would you be doing if it were Clary that Sebastian had taken? If it were her we were going to rescue, not knowing if she were dead or alive? How would you be doing?_ " Alec had said.

" _I - I would be in pieces._ " And that had been Jace's answer.

And now he was in pieces. He knew he was more impulsive now and he couldn't think right and he felt like he would crumble to the ground and break at any time.

Jace spotted a couple of girls in skimpy outfits mainly consisting of lace and leather and fishnets, waiting on the side of the road, some looking at their phones while others just looked bored. Their true faces were hidden behind layers upon layers upon layers upon layers of makeup, giving them a Barbie and painting like image.

Magnus turned into a lane in between two closed boutiques. Broken glass and gravel crunched under Jace's boots as he looked at the rock and cement walls of the two boutiques. The air smelt of cigarettes, cat pee and smoke.

"If you dragged us here to wall watch, I'm going to go back to stare at the prostitutes." Jace said, looking at the rock wall Magnus was staring at.

"You weren't even staring at them." Magnus muttered before he began chanting something low and grave under his breath.

Magnus ran his hand across the wall, a green aura wavering around his hand. Jace relaxed his mind and let his eyes hood as he stared at the wall, trying to look past any glamour that was put on it.

He felt a slight tinge of disappointment when he was squinting at the same wall. He tried to see past the glamour harder and saw Simon was doing the same as well. He kept seeing the same grey rock wall.

"There's no glamour," Magnus said, some strain evident in his voice. Alec stepped closer to his boyfriend, staring at the wall. Jace stepped forward and saw that black designs were blossoming in the middle of the wall, growing and curling outwards until finally it took the form of a black opened tulip with a crooked stem. The center of the tulip began to glow gold and orange and black fire spilled from the blossoming flower and the fire spread, no longer looking two dimension.

All of them took a few steps back - Magnus had calmly stepped back but the Shadowhunters had leapt backwards, their hands flying to their weapons belt and tensing on a weapon when the fire made a hissing sound and flew outwards, leaping off the wall and becoming three dimension. The fire produced sparks before it started to eat away at the rock wall. It looked like metal was melting. The rock brick wall was dissolved by the black and orange fire, falling and dripping in red hot sludge that resembled molten lava and probably was except for the fact Jace felt no heat from it.

Jace knew through the stupid mundane science classes he took when he was younger that rock didn't melt easily just by such simple flame. Rocks, when exposed to extreme, extreme heat turned to lava. If the rock _had_ melted into lava, Jace would've been burning by now which wasn't the case.

But being a Shadowhunter, someone who wasn't raised believing that everything had a scientific explanation but instead where anything and everything didn't have to happen for any apparent reason or explanation didn't find the heatless lava shocking.

The rock was melted away until a jagged cavity remained. Instead of staring at the inside of the shop, Jace stared at a smoky and grey surface that reminded him of a Portal except instead of being transparent it looked like smoke and gas.

Jace said the first thing that bubbled to his lips, his tight grip on the hilt of a seraph blade on his belt tightening even further.

"I hope the guy who owns this place has insurance against a bunch of vandalistic Shadowhunters and one very rebellious warlock or wall tattooes." Jace said, looking at the grey abyss before them. He could hear the slight crack in his voice as he tried to control his impatience.

"Well, children, follow daddy and mommy." Magnus said, his hands clenching.

Simon leaned over to Jace and whispered monotonously with no trace of amusement in his voice as if he was truly serious about his question.

"Who's the daddy?" Alec shot dagger glares at the both of them even though Jace had said nothing while Magnus didn't seem to have heard and if he had, he must have decided to ignore them.

Magnus took a step forward and they watched as he disappeared into the wall of smoke. Alec went before Jace followed after, braving himself as he took the last step that would cross him over into the smoky abyss.

The moment he took that step, Jace felt like he was caught and suspended in oblivion and it was one of the most terrifying things Jace had ever experienced. All around him all he could see was grey smoke and he couldn't breathe. His lungs wouldn't accept the air and Jace felt like he was suffocating. His eyes burned and the tips of his fingers went icily numb. The grey limbo he was caught in stretched on in all directions forever. Jace didn't think there was an end and the thought terrified him.

Time itself felt like it was frozen and Jace was caught like that, lost and suffocating and alone. He could have been stuck there for seconds, minutes, hours, days, decades or centuries and Jace wouldn't know. He wanted to scream but no sound escaped his lips.

After what felt like an eternity later, Jace felt himself being able to breath again. Doing a double take, Jace realised that he was no longer trapped in the empty oblivion but in a brown colored room that didn't look at all like it was constructed based in a floor plan but rather like it was a natural cave. Every so often Jace could see a stalagmite sticking out from the ground.

Slowly, feeling and sense flooded into Jace again and he felt like he wanted to collapse. Magnus stood a few feet ahead of him, looking at Jace with understanding eyes.

"It's not as bad on the way out." Magnus said and Jace noticed that Magnus was looking a little pale and drained. Alec was on the floor of the cave-like room which was looking more and more like a cave with every passing moment, his head in his hands as he breathed heavily.

Simon staggered out beside Jace, looking lost for a moment. He gripped onto Jace's shoulder tightly, his nails digging into the fabric and flesh of Jace's shoulder. He bent over, supporting himself by putting his other hand on his knee.

"What. The. Freaking. Goddamn. Godforsaken. Hell _was that_?" Simon spat, looking behind him at the grey doorway which was decreasing in size.

"That was a Portal." Magnus said, kneeling beside Alec.

"How the hell was that a Portal?" Simon said. Jace closed his eyes, feeling his head spin.

"Okay. It's not exactly called a Portal. It's actually a gateway to here. Just here."

"Where is here?"

"Persephone's Lair."

Jace's eyes snapped open at that. His eyes settled on Magnus staring at Alec who looked slightly shaken.

"Magnus, and for the sake of it I'm saying please, tell me we're _not_ and _everywhere_ else _except_ in the Underworld?" Jace said slowly.

"Not _exactly_." Magnus said. Alec looked up, his eyes wide.

"Magnus," Alec said slowly, rising to his feet.

"Calm down. It's just Persephone. And it's not even _that_ Persephone. This is _another_ Persephone. Much nicer than the wife of Hades but not as sympathetic. Now _that_ woman needs a chill pill. Like, literally because she stays in Hell." Magnus said, rambling. Jace narrowed his eyes at the warlock. He seemed _nervous_. That was a first. "Her real name isn't _even_ Persephone!"

"Does she know we're here?" Jace said.

"I wouldn't doubt it." Magnus muttered. "Let's go."

Magnus led the way, occasionally stepping around enormous stalagmites. The cave they were in reminded Jace of the cave they had taken refuge in the demon realm. Or rather, it reminded him of the cavern with the clear water lake which held one of the most precious memories of him and Clary. The walls glittered with mica and occasionally flames were embedded in the walls of the cave with magic, burning as they dimly lit the way.

Jace reached into his pocket and took out one of the witch lights he had brought along. The runestone lit up brightly in Jace's, adding more light to their path.

Slowly, the rocky uneven surface beneath them started to smoothen out and a few feet ahead, Jace saw that the ground had gone from the rocky surface to complete smooth black marble.

The marble surface had gold colored cracks and white silhouettes dashed back and forth underneath the marble. Jace thought he saw the face of a pale young girl against the floor of the black marble but it disappeared as a silhouette that darted away.

Ice crawled up his spine and Jace felt himself shudder. Something about this place filled him with dread. At the thought of dread, he hadn't realised that he was shivering lightly. The temperature in the cave felt like it had dropped to below negative in a matter of moments.

"What the hell is this place?" Alec said through gritted teeth.

"You could call it limbo." Magnus said harshly. He had wrapped the black trench coat he was wearing tightly around himself. "There isn't really a proper word for it. It's a place that's _in between_ but unlike limbo which is ou-out o-o-of reach to the living, the living _can_ access this place, if you had the pr-proper means and knowledge." Magnus said, cursing loudly.

"Why is it so damn _cold_?" Simon said, looking down at the marble. "And what are those?"

"I thought this wasn't the Underworld?" Alec said, looking at the silhouettes that darted beneath the marble in horror.

"They're not damned souls. They're sold souls. Mundanes, Downworlders and even Shadowhunters who were either too foolish or too desperate and went to Persephone for help. If they couldn't pay in her currency, she bargained for their souls."

"What are we doing here then?" Simon spat, sounding angry.

"I told you, we need insight on the whole situation. Persephone can help. She's the best seer I've ever known." Magnus said. "Besides, she owes me."

"How do we know she's not going to trick us into giving up our souls?" Simon said angrily.

"Persephone is anything but conniving. She doesn't need to be. She doesn't particularly enjoy tricking other people unlike the fae. She knows exactly what you want. She can _see_ it and all you have to do is say it and she won't hesitate to help."

"Why didn't Sebastian use her?" Alec asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I doubted he or anyone one in his army knew of her. Very little people know of her and those who do don't tend to share her. And you don't go to her for something simple. She means business and she knows what to fight for and what not to." Magnus replied as Jace felt the temperature rise drastically to a cool surrounding.

"For very little people, those are a lot of souls."

"They're accumulated. Over millenniums about several hundred thousand souls have come to Persephone and most of them can't pay their debts. Her magic and Sight isn't for free."

Jace could see that the cave started to take on a clear inhabited state. In a corner, a rock table with what looked like voodoo dolls with buttons from eyes and their mouths pulled into permanent smiles which were stitched shut sat, a fine layer of dust on them. Necklaces made out of gems and beads and coins hung from the ceiling of the cave. Weird carvings and marking were etched onto the walls of the cave, the mica glittering alongside them. They looked less like runes and more like tribal markings that spoke of an ancient magic.

As they proceeded deeper, the space in the cave became more filled with ridiculously odd items you'd find in a cave in limbo which ranged from an old black and dusty hookah to a chess set which was made out completely of amethyst and sapphire to a cash register.

More voodoo dolls lied on makeshift shelves that looked like they were made from rocks thrown together. It almost felt as if the dolls were watching them.

Scrolls sat atop one another in a humongous pile by the side of the cave, the parchments yellow and brown.

Magnus turned a sharp corner and they found themselves in a round lit room completely lined with gold shelves that were filled with jars and glasses and books and more voodoo dolls.

In the middle of the room, also gold was what looked like a celestial clock and map, hands and pieces turning every second. Symbols were engraved on the clock, all different from the last one.

Directly opposite them, beyond the celestial clock was a throne, made out of curved and molded stalagmites, gold and black lining the sides and edges and in the throne, sat a young woman, looking no older than twenty with her eyes closed and wearing a red and black kimono-ceongsam that swept the floor.

Pure white hair fell like a ruler to the bottom of her rigid back, her bangs pulled into delicate and loose French braids. She looked Chinese and Japanese, the two heritage blending together. Her closed eyelids were lavender pale and the smoothness and whiteness of her skin reminded Jace of porcelain. Her eyes were the shape of almonds, long thick lashes framing them. Her beauty was muted yet striking at the same time. Her small, nimble hands sat clasped on her thighs. She didn't seem to acknowledge their presence.

From the moment he had heard the name Persephone, Jace had imagined a wrinkly and bad tempered old lady with a hunchback and maybe several hellhounds or hellcats. He in no way had expected this young lady. Almost unconsciously, Jace ran his thumb over his runestone, diminishing the light.

"Knock." she said and her voice reminded Jace of a symphony of wind chimes. It was clear and piercing yet gentle and silvery.

"Hello, Persephone." Magnus greeted. "I would knock but there is no door."

She frowned, her eyes still closed. "I must have forgotten to get a new door. The last spell I did for a guardian fae tore my doors of the hinges. I must have forgotten to replace them." She spoke with a light Chinese British accent.

"How long ago was that?" Magnus asked.

"About thirty-fifty years ago, give or take a few decades." she said lightly, shrugging. "Come in."

Magnus stepped into the room and hesitantly, Jace did the same. Persephone still sat unmoving on her throne but Jace had a feeling that she could _see_ everything that was going on right now.

"To what do I owe the second time pleasure, Magnus Bane?" Persephone said, her tone sounding rather curious yet bored at the same time. "I've never had someone who has returned again for my services."

"I need your help. I need your Sight." Magnus said.

"Oh. For a moment I thought you wanted my company and ever uplifting aura." she said dryly, her face showing no traces of sarcasm though her voice dripped with it. "You're lucky I wasn't in the mood to hurl you back through that doorway the moment you came in. Your compliments may or may not have also buttered me up a little."

"I had hoped for that." Magnus said lightly, peering at a jar of leaves. There was a concentrated look on his face as he stared at the jar. "I thought you had been planning to move the entrance to your domain to somewhere a little less wild?"

"Please, the Red Light District is entertaining if not hilarious. It's antics are rather amusing."

Jace stared at Persephone, taking in her gentle yet fiery being. She was extremely beautiful to say the least but there was something ghostly and terrifying about her look that made Jace, for the first time in a long time to ever fear a person, want to fear her.

"I can see you staring, Jonathan Herondale." Persephone mused lightly.

"Forgive me," he said, acting the way he would if he were talking to the Seelie Queen.

"Hmm … manners." Persephone chirped, a small smile tugging at the side of her sculpted lips. "I like you."

Jace smiled politely, hardly, though inside he was clawing at Magnus to get to the _freaking_ point.

"I can also sense your impatience, young Shadowhunters." Persephone said. "Magnus, before these young children attack you or me, I suggest you get to the point."

Magnus looked up, smiling lightly. "I was about to. I'm just thinking very very carefully about my words." Magnus said, smiling again.

"Wise." Persephone commented.

And she opened her eyes.

Jace heard Alec gasp softly and found himself staring at her eyes. Her irises were big and were a spectrum of infinite colors all blended together like light shone on a million faceted prism and a million colors bounced of the facets from the light. They glittered like gems, looking at everyone in the room.

"Not one. But three." Persephone said calmly. She was looking right at Jace and her stare challenged him to stare back.

"Yes. But - wait. _Three_?" Magnus said, looking thrown for a moment. Jace's eyebrows furrowed. Three?

"Yes. Clarissa Fairchild. Isabelle Lightwood. Colette Ravenshade."

Alec stared. " _Colette?_ But we just left the Institute and she didn't want to come."

"Not all is as what it seems, Alexander," Persephone said.

"Can you please tell us, _see_ for us what are we facing." Magnus said, looking almost pleading.

"Possible deaths, lacerations and a twisted wrist." Persephone said. Magnus glared at her and a smile spread onto Persephone's face. She closed her eyes and a look of pure concentration passed over her face. "Hybrids. Abominations of nature. Created by -"

Persephone cut off, her perfect eyebrows scrunching together. Her eyes shifted away from Jace and to her celestial map.

"I can't see." Persephone said quietly. " _I can't see._ " she gasped.

"What do you mean you can't see?" Magnus pressed.

"My vision is blocked. Something is blocking my Sight." Persephone whispered, looking ever so slightly deflated. "Something far beyond my powers." she whispered.

"What would be so powerful that it could block _you_ of all people?" Magnus said. "You're a Celestial Spirit. Your magic is infinite -"

"You're a what?" Jace said, his eyebrows arching.

"You can call me a lot of things. My more Western and European visitors know me as a Celestial Spirit while the Japanese would call me a _kitsune_." Persephone said quietly, her eyes staring into a distance.

Jace looked at her, analyzing her like he would with a war plan. He wasn't very shocked she was a Celestial Spirit though they were rare and there weren't many existing. There was something otherworldly about Persephone. Hodge had told him that Celestial Spirits were eternal beings that possessed powers such as telepathy, shapeshifting, clairvoyance, magic and the ability to cross the borders between dimensions if one was strong enough.

 _Kitsune_ on the other hand were Japanese female fox spirits that mainly had shapeshifting as a power but stronger ones had most of a Celestial Spirit's powers. _Kitsune_ were mostly famous for their tails that symbolised the strength of their power but Jace couldn't see any on Persephone.

She smiled gently at him, reading his mind about the tails.

"So you can't see _anything_ that involves our problem?"

Persephone bowed her head, looking at her clasped hands. "One. One thing. Someone. One of you will be dead at the end of this quest for Clarissa." she said in a monotone.

Jace felt his blood leave his face and run cold. Simon, Alec and himself exchanged stricken glances with each other. He locked eyes with his blue-eyed _parabatai_ , silent communication running through them before Alec shifted his eyes towards Magnus, pain in his eyes.

Jace's thoughts went to Clary and dread filled him as possibilities of what could be happening to her now filled his mind

"Who?" Magnus said, breaking the heavy tension of silence, almost choking on the word.

"My Sight won't let me see who exactly. I see black and red and a body with blood in the middle of a room and gold."

Simon's breath hitched in his throat and he looked at the ground.

"Let's get to freaking Ireland, save Clary before we lose someone else and get out all of us _alive_ ," Simon said, pain in his throat and eyes as he looked at Magnus.

"You will lose someone -" Persephone started.

"Not," Simon growled. "if I can help it. I don't give a damn what the hell your _Sight_ tells you. I've already lost one of the most important people that matters most to me and I will _not_ lose another!"

Jace knew that Simon wasn't just talking about Clary. He was talking about all of them. That they all, no matter how annoying they had been to him, mattered to him.

"My visions are never wrong, Simon Lewis," Persephone said patiently.

"It's time they did. Magnus, can we go?" Simon said impatiently.

Magnus was quiet, looking at Persephone. "Yeah," he whispered. Simon turned and stalked out.

"There will be no need for any sort of payment, Magnus. I didn't exactly please. I'm sorry." Persephone said, getting up. The silk sleeves of her kimono fell, hiding her pale hands.

"You won't tell _him_ will you, Persephone?" Magnus whispered.

Persephone stepped up to Magnus, cupping the side of his face with one slim hand. Jace saw Alec's face flush a bright red, his eyes narrowing.

"I won't. Me and him haven't been on speaking terms for several centuries now." Persephone murmured.

"It was nice seeing you again, Persephone," Magnus muttered.

He turned, walking out. Alec followed immediately while Jace stood in place for a while. He looked at Persephone who was staring at him before muttering a _nice to meet you_ and following after the rest.

He managed to catch up with Magnus and Alec just as the temperature was about to drop.

"Magnus, why didn't you ask Persephone to help when we were under attack from Sebastian?" Jace asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. That question had been nagging at the back of Jace's mind for a while.

"The price I'd probably have to pay for asking for her help with such a big problem wouldn't have been worth it. I'm sure Sebastian would have had multiple protection details and spells over him and his army, concealing them and it wouldn't be easy for even someone as powerful as Persephone to get past them. Also, she has a tendency to share things with _him_."

"Him?"

"Asmodeus. My father." Magnus said as if it meant nothing to him but Jace could hear the tension in his voice.

Alec stiffened, not because of the cold, Jace knew. He shot Magnus a sideway glance, just a glimpse of his blue iris visible before he looked away.

Simon looked at Magnus at the mention of the name. He looked slightly confused but he decided not to ask as he turned away.

"The last thing I ever wanted was to meet him," Magnus said. "Look how well that turned out." he said, his eyes on Simon who remained oblivious to the eyes on him as he looked at the glittering mica, his hands balled into fists.

 **A/N** **\- Hi everyone! I'm so glad you're all enjoying (is that the right word?) my fanfic and are so emotionally invested in it. It literally makes my day everytime one of you comments :D I love you guys! Anyway … What do you think will happen next? Who do you think will die?**


	31. Hellfire

**A/N - I'd like to warn you guys now that this chapter is going to be quite gory and violent! So please proceed at your own risk :P Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 30 - Hellfire**

Pain shot through her cheek as Clary winced as she moved her wrist. Blood dripped steadily from the irritated gash on her wrist and onto her cement bed. Her wrist had long gone numb. She could only feel the sick feeling of rough metal scratching and cutting into her skin and the occasional flare of pain in her cheek. She didn't know what demon metal was but it hurt a lot for one thing.

She knew her twenty minutes were almost up and Clary felt herself dreading what was waiting for her. She hadn't even given her answer much thought. There was nothing to think about. She refused to help something so despicable.

She'd rather die.

She stared at her bloody nails and palm which had a moderate cut on the front, looking at the way her blood welled up and fell down her palm. She clenched her bloody hand into a fist, staring straight ahead in darkness as pain burned through her hand.

The darkness of her cell suited her, the light being emitted from the bars feeling like hope: untouchable.

"Knock knock."

Clary looked up and suppressed a shudder at the sight of the fair haired woman standing outside her cell, smiling expectantly.

"So?" she said, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"I'm not helping you. My answer hasn't changed." Clary said firmly.

The woman's eyes darkened drastically, her enthusiasm muting and her eyes narrowing to slits. "Very well." she said, her lips curling upwards.

"Haverley!" she barked sharply, her cold hard eyes never leaving Clary. "I wish I didn't have to ruin your pretty body and face but what I'm doing is more important."

A girl with a slim, tall figure danced up to the woman. She wore a tight red corset for a top, a black jacket sheathing her arms. She wore a pair of blood red leather pants and mid-calf high black boots. There was something highly dangerous in her aura, the way she carried herself. Her hair was a vibrant shade of bright red hair and was tied into a sleek braid that trailer down her back. Clary found herself staring at the girl's crown of red hair.

"Yes, my _suzerain_?" Haverley said, bowing slightly.

"Convince her, Haverley. And show no mercy." the woman said coldly, the words feeling like frozen steel pipes being stabbed into Clary before turning away and disappearing.

Haverley turned to look at Clary, her head cocked to a side. Now that she was facing Clary, she could see Haverley's full profile.

The girl had pale ghostly skin and blood red lips. Her big green eyes were framed with thick eyelashes that cast shadows on her cheekbones.

There was the sound of metal being dragged across rock again and Haverley stepped through the bars, her red stele still clutched tightly in her right hand.

As the threatening girl got closer, Clary could see that the whites of her eyes danced with blue and green veins and her green irises were dusted with black flecks.

Clary flinched as Haverley got too close. She kicked her legs out but Haverley merely rolled her eyes before quickly applying the tip of her stele to the end of the manacle chain that disappeared into the wall. The chain broke of with a mild _clink_ and Clary felt the will to fight fill her up. She wasn't going to go down without a fight.

She screamed, shoving Haverley away. The tall girl staggered backwards, her nostrils flaring in anger as she did. Clary shoved past her, a small sense of hope planting itself in her chest when she saw that the bars of her cell were still parted, giving her an escape.

The small flicker of hope was diminished and smothered when Clary felt metal cut deep into her arm and she screamed in shock and she was yanked backwards, more blood oozing from the cut on her wrist.

A hand gripped her upper arm with a painful force, it's nails digging into Clary's flesh.

She felt something metallic and cool wrap tightly around her neck and Clary found herself choking and gasping for air. She clawed at whatever that was wrapped around her neck and felt looped chains. That explained the immobility in one arm. She was being choked with her own chain.

"Behave!" Haverley hissed, yanking on the chain so it wrapped and squeezed Clary's windpipe with a force that threatened to snap it into two.

Clary did anything but behave. She started to claw viciously, hoping she could pry the chain off her or tear Haverley's flesh right of her arm or face. A few seconds later, Clary felt her eyes water and her lungs straining and screaming in burning agony as no oxygen made it through her windpipe, causing Clary to make loud gasping sounds, her clawing growing feeble.

It was pure agony, not being able to breath though Clary had known worse pain.

"Stop resisting!" Haverley snapped and the death grip around her loosened ever so slightly.

Clary thrashed for a few more moments before stilling, the only movements from her free hand which was trying to desperately pry the chain off from around her neck. It loosened until it was just lightly wrapped around her neck. Clary greedily took in great gulps of air, her chest heaving.

"Let's go," Haverley muttered, shoving Clary forward.

Clary staggered forward every time Haverley pushed or shoved her. She left the confines of her cell and was shoved down the opposite direction that the fair haired woman had gone down.

"Why are you helping this?" Clary gasped as the chain tightened ever so slightly around her neck. " _How_ can you help this?"

"Shut up." Haverley muttered.

For a while, the only thing that could be heard was Haverley's grunts as she shoved Clary.

"You're an idiot, you know," Haverley said after several moments of silence.

Clary said nothing, occasionally struggling against the tight hold.

"By saying yes, you could have saved yourself a whole world of pain, ruled the world and have _everything_ you want." Haverley said, envy tinting her voice.

An image of Jace's, her mother's, Alec's, Simon's and Isabelle's faces - how disappointed they would be if she had given in - flashed through her mind and she blinked, tears pooling up. She swallowed the stinging feeling that was at the back of her throat and behind her eyes, fighting the urge to break down.

"I don't need everything that I _want._ " Clary said. Haverley laughed in disbelief, her body vibrating behind Clary's back.

"You seriously are something else," she said, scoffing. "Everything: money, power, love, happiness-all of the above which you don't have and probably never will-and you say you don't want them?"

"I don't need money and power." Clary said, struggling.

Haverley yanked on the chain harshly, making Clary gasp and claw at her throat.

"You may not need power and money but no one can live without happiness or love. We can give you both in the blink of an eye. Any man you desire will be at your feet." Haverley crooned. "Or, if you have a particular gentleman in mind ..." she trailed off, laughing.

Clary gritted her teeth.

" _Clary?_ " a familiar voice screamed.

Clary's eyes widened at the voice, head whipped to aside and she felt the rough metal of the chain cut into her neck. She opened her mouth to scream back a name but the chain was tightened painfully around her throat.

" _Clary!_ "

Haverley grunted, looking into the dark cell. Clary couldn't see much of who was inside the cell except for a glint of gold. The bars weren't the gold light bars that Clary had in her cells. These bars were bars made of blinding electric blue currents that whizzed and buzzed with static electricity.

"Ares, take prisoner 165 to the _suzerain_ and then to the feeding room. I think it will be perfect timing to start now." Haverley said in a monotone, nudging Clary forward. A boy that looked about fifteen appeared, carrying a red stele in his hand. He nodded grimly at Haverley, turning to the cell.

" _NO! CLARY, FIGHT BACK!_ "

Clary was shoved down and away from the cell, her feet tripping over each other. She was shoved around several corners, through the maze-like dungeon.

Haverley seemed distracted, her was grip loosened and her shoulder nudges were badly aimed.

Clary closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath and reared her elbow back into Haverley's stomach. The taller girl groaned, her grip loosening enough for Clary to reach down to her jeans pocket and withdraw the small but sharp shard of rock she had spent ten minutes trying to wiggle out from the ground of her cell. She had ended up with a torn nail, several bloody fingers from all the wiggling and tugging and when she had the rock in her grip, she had given it one last strong yank. It had tore free from the bottom layer of rock it had been buried in but it had left the cut she had on her palm now.

Instead of feeling the chains tighten, they snaked loose.

She whirled around, seeing Haverley's enraged face.

It was like time had slowed down. Clary was aware of every little aspect. In her peripheral vision, she saw Haverley's hands reaching to grab her. One of her hands grabbed the chain that was around Clary's neck, tightening her grip on it. Clary took a step back and in an instantaneous movement brought her arm up and swiped the shard of rock she held across Haverley's face.

The rock cut through the skin of her left cheek and her lip, skimming and grazing her nose and resumed it's painful trail to her forehead. Clary had missed her eye but the damage on her face seemed sufficient enough. Haverley staggered back, her grip on the chain screaming as she clutched her injured face.

Clary turned on her heels, the rock still clutched tightly in her hand and ran. She realized the chain was still wrapped loosely grabbed them and pulled them off her, dropping them to the dusty ground.

Her hair whipped around her face as she ran, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Clary realized that she was completely lost in here, that she had no idea how the hell to get out of here. All she could do is run. So she did.

Clary didn't know how long she was running until she felt the familiar burn and exhaustion building in her feet. She had taken countless corners but everything looked the same. She prayed she would find herself at the earlier cell, the one that held _her_.

She slowed to a jog when the cells around her changed. They weren't organised metal, energy or light bars which were arranged in order but sharp, lethal spears that stuck out hazardously from the frame. The spears were faced inwards, all of them made out of gleaming iron, silver or metal.

She stopped at one, peering in. It was empty though there was a patch of dark red on the ground. Clary felt sweat break out on the nape of her neck as she back away.

" _Help, please?_ " a soft voice groaned.

She whirled around, stifling a gasp with her hand. The voice had originated from the cell that was situated a few feet away from her.

With her heart pounding in her chest and sweat matting her hair, she approached the cell. She peered into what at first looked like an empty cell until she saw the slouched figure on the ground. It looked like a man but there was something odd about him, something Clary couldn't place.

She squinted, trying to get a better look at the figure.

" _Help me … please_." the man groaned. He looked up and Clary stifled a scream as horror overtook her. She staggered backwards, her hand firmly pressed against her mouth to stop any rising screams.

The man, who looked about thirty though it was hard to decide seeing that he was covered in blood, had the skin of his jaw and chin peeled off, leaving the meaty raw flesh visible. Clary could see his teeth and blood dripping down onto his stomach.

Clary nearly threw up at the sight of his stomach. The skin was peeled back to, exposing the fleshy underside. His guts were literally spilling out from his stomach, what looking like his intestine lying on the floor.

He groaned and moaned again, his hands feebly scratching at the ground. " _This place … it's driving me … crazy. Help me, please._ " he cried. His eyes rolled back into his head, revealing the bloodshot whites of his eyes.

As if to prove his claim on his insanity even further, he plunged a hand into his spilling stomach, clutching at his organs. He groaned in agony and Clary felt tears fall down her face as she felt bile and vomit rise in her throat.

" _Run little girl while … you still can. They'll kill you … and turn everyone … you love … like me_ ," the man croaked, groaning in pain. " _They're using … Downworlders and … Nephilim … to fuel their army. You're … as good as … dead now_!"

Horror coursed through her like the blood in her veins except horror was black and ice cold and sickening to her stomach, making it churn and do flips in her.

She clutched onto the wall and leaned to a side before retching uncontrollably, acid and bitter liquid spilling from her lips and onto the ground. Tears fell as she brought back up everything in her stomach. She wiped her lips with her sleeve when she was done and there was nothing else left in her stomach to throw up. She feebly clutched her stomach, feeling so weak, so horrified.

She knew she would never be able to forget what she saw here. She would be haunted by it for the rest of her life.

" _It hurts_ ," The man staggered to his feet, his hand still buried deep in his abdomen before collapsing face first to the ground, unmoving. His shoulders didn't move, indicating he wasn't breathing.

A sob escaped her lips as Clary's back hit a wall and leaned against the wall opposite the man's cell. Her legs shook as she struggled to stay upright.

She couldn't imagine the amount of pain the man must have endured and Clary felt more hot tears fall down her cheeks.

Horrifying images flashed through her mind, of her mother's mangled figure, of Martin Starkweather's and then of this man.

" _Who's there? Help please?_ " another soft voice drifted to her ears, equally tortured as the skinned man.

 _Oh God, no._

She shut her eyes as she slowly shook her head.

Clary couldn't understand how someone could have done something so despicable and heartless to a _living_ _being_ , human or not. She decided that one must truly be heartless and soulless to do anything like that.

Clary felt herself being seized by the back of her shirt and she knew she had been caught and she was about to go through pain but she was in too much shock to fully grasp the thought.

Vaguely, she felt herself being pushed and shoved around but she kept her eyes firmly shut until a sickening pain spread through her body as her stomach came into contact with something sharp and solid. Her eyes snapped open at the pain and Clary found herself staring at an arched ceiling with rococo motifs, like the infirmary's ceiling but with a darker element.

"Now, the _suzerain_ is going to have _my head_ because of that _stunt_ you pulled!" Clary heard Haverley scream. Pain blossomed in her side, making Clary's body stiffen. She kept her lips firmly sealed. She didn't want to scream.

Haverley kicked her again, this time aiming for her ribs. Clary whimpered softly as she heard the toe of Haverley's boot connect to her side.

"By the time I'm done with you, you're going to wish you had never been born," Haverley hissed. "And for my sake and yours, when I ask you if you're going to join us at the end of this, your answer is yes."

Haverley gripped Clary's shoulders tightly, hauling her to her feet.

The punch that Haverley delivered to Clary's cheek was strong enough to make Clary's head snap back painfully. It felt as if her teeth were rattling in her gums.

Clary felt herself fall and she gasped as the back of her head made a loud thud against the marble of the floor.

Lying on her side, she could that she lying in a pavilion that was painted black and gold, stars lining the walls. It had a second floor balcony with silver railings along the side.

Haverley nudged her with her boot so that Clary was lying on her back. Clary squirmed, ignoring the throbbing pains in her abdomen and started thrashing, hoping she get out from under Haverley who was hovering over her.

Cursing, Haverley pinned Clary's legs down with her longer and heavier ones and trapped her arms with her elbows. Haverley held a dagger in one hand and Clary felt sick as the dagger was dragged lightly across her cheek.

Clary not to flinch as more pressure was applied to the dagger. She stared right into Haverley's odd eyes, fighting back a shudder at the demented, crazed look in her eyes. The long cut across her face was a satisfying sight and Clary kept her eyes firmly planted on the hideous gash she had left on the girl's face.

"Let's start with your beautiful lips shall we?"

Clary stiffened and bit back a scream when she felt the blade ran across her upper lip. The blood from her lip seeped into her mouth and Clary clenched her hands at the taste of blood.

"Holding back screams will only make the pain worse," Haverley said in a singsong.

Haverley shifted her body so that she could access Clary's right arm. As hard as Clary tried, she couldn't move any of her limbs enough to hurt Haverley. She struggled, feeling so weak and tired.

There was the sound of fabric being shredded and Clary felt the right sleeve of her cardigan disappear.

"I wish I had skin like yours," Haverley crooned, running the blade gently over the skin of her shoulder and arm. "Well, if I can't have them, neither can you."

Clary's jerked as agony shot up her arm. She felt the sickening cold blade being plunged into her arm once and the feeling of absolute torture as Haverley ran the dagger down her arm, cutting into her skin.

Tears formed in her eyes and a scream made it past her gritted teeth and clamped lips. It screamed pain and agony and the sound of it only seemed to encourage Haverley.

Haverley sat up, looking at Clary's arm almost adoringly. Clary spared a glance at her throbbing, burning arm and winced at the sight of it. A long but shallow cut from her shoulder to wrist decorated her skin, blood flowing from the cut in a pattern like spiderwebs and onto the floor.

"You could have willingly given up your blood and saved yourself all this pain but you. Were. Too. Arrogant!" Haverley screamed, digging the dagger sideways into Clary's arm. "Now your blood will be wasted."

Clary screamed, thrashing as pain attacked her again and again.

"I see you met my friend, Lyam, back there." Haverley said, pulling back and smiling. "Poor thing died before we could fully use him."

"You're a _monster_ ," Clary hissed.

"And you're pathetic." Haverley said, arching an eyebrow. "Now, where else can I mark?" Haverley said, looking at Clary from her head and downwards before stopping at her stomach.

"And believe me, Clary. You're not getting an _iratze_ anytime soon," Haverley said, peeling her sweaty shirt upwards and exposing her stomach.

Clary shut her eyes, prepared for the pain and prayed for a miracle that she knew would not come.

Her first scream was one that rang with agony and pain, followed by many many other screams that threatened to break and shatter glass as the girl above her showed no mercy.

 **A/N** **\- Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you like! I'm sorry if that was too gory for you :\**


	32. By An Angel's Grace

**A/N - *Warning* depressing material and LOTS OF FEELS.**

 **Chapter 31 - By An Angel's Grace**

Clary lay gasping on the cool marble ground of the pavilion, lying on her side. Her cheek was pressed firmly against the ground as she tried to calm the pounding in her head.

Everywhere hurt and she'd wager that every inch of her was covered in bruises and cuts. What Clary knew that was only ten minutes of pure torture and agony had felt like hours.

Her throat was hoarse and dry from all her screaming. She wanted to laugh at her earlier resolve of no screaming. She stared at her bloody hand, a bad and rough drawing of a flame cut into her palm. She winced at the memory of pain and she was afraid to move so much as an inch from her position now, knowing that pain would be waiting for her every time she moved.

After mauling her arm, Haverley had moved to her stomach, lightly bouncing the dagger across her skin, making small cuts. She had then dug the dagger into her side, not deep enough to puncture any vital organs but enough to elicit screams and sobs from Clary. She had then moved to Clary's back, creating two deep gashes on her shoulder blades, claiming that an angel like her needed exit points on her back for her angel wings.

When she had said that, Clary's suspicions of Haverley being a total loon was frighteningly real. Haverley then had cut and injured every untouched inch of skin on Clary.

Clary had waited and hoped for he stealing darkness of death that would sneak up on her and pull her beneath it's dark waters but it never came. All she wanted to do was die.

 _Let me die, let me die, let me die, please, let me die._

Haverley now circled her, her bloody dagger still in her grip.

"I almost pity you." Haverley said, crouching in front of her face. She reached a hand out and nudged Clary's cheek. Pain flared from her mouth and cheeks and lips and her whole body jerked from the sudden pain .

"Are you ready for another round or should I give you a few more minutes?" Haverley said, jutting her bottom lip out mockingly. Clary glared into her eyes.

"Like I care." Haverley hissed and kicked Clary so she lying on her back again. Clary gasped as her sore back came in contact with the floor. Her shoulderblades screamed in protest and Clary wanted to scream in agony.

She was lying in a pool of her own blood; she could feel the warm stickiness of it beneath her fingertips.

"Do you really need all your fingers?" Haverley said, seizing Clary's sore left hand tightly. She whimpered as Haverley's nails dug into the cuts that ravaged her hand which was a bright irritated bright, the cuts on her hands as numerous as sand on a beach. "I guess not."

Clary screamed as Haverley dragged her dagger across Clary's index finger, cutting into the skin like it was merely tissue paper.

"Keep on screaming. Go ahead." Haverley said, laughing. "I am going to-"

Haverley was interrupted by a rushed, frantic voice, screaming in a language Clary didn't know. A man with tattooes for skin was speaking in a frantic manner to Haverley, his mouth moving and shaping words at light speed. She caught some English words, mixed in the whirlwind of words.

"Shadowhunters … in … found … Clarissa … _suzerain_ … finish … yes … here … immediately ..." the man gushed, only the several words audible.

In reply, Haverley screamed loudly in frustration, flinging her dagger across the room like a child throwing a tantrum. She barked back something in the unknown language as she ran her hands through her red hair. The man bowed before turning and running back into one of the tunnels he came from.

"Well, Clary. I'm going to ask you once." Haverley said, whirling to glare at Clary's feeble and crumpled figure. "Will you willingly give us your cooperation?"

"No," Clary choked out, wondering if that was truly the smartest move. Her body screamed at her, protesting against her choice but her gut told her she was doing the right thing.

Haverley rolled her eyes, as if anticipating Clary's answer. "Fine." she spat. "I didn't want to have to do this but you've left me no choice."

She moved towards Clary and stood over her, seizing Clary by the front of her shirt and lifting her off the ground. She glared into Clary's green eyes with her own, her mouth distorting angrily into a snarl, making her look more terrifying than she already did.

"Luckily, I don't need you sane for you to say yes." Haverley said and Clary watched in horror as the girl's eyes darkened until they were nothing but all consuming endless black abysses.

A cold darkness crept up in Clary's mind but this wasn't the darkness of death she had wished for. This was a much colder and it left her stomach churning. She felt herself being pulled into those endless tunnels and falling through them.

Her hands flew up and gripped tightly on Haverley's arms, her nails digging into the other girl's flesh. She could still see everything as if everything was normal but it felt as if her mind and vision were detached from each other. She could see Haverley glaring into her eyes but it felt like behind the clear image of her vision darkness was consuming her every thought.

Despair settled in Clary's mind, feeling herself drowning in sorrow and hopelessness. An overwhelming sense of dread claimed every corner and crevice of her mind, tainting even the most happy and pure thoughts. Those feelings wrapped around her and Clary felt so alone and so cold and so _dead_. Ice shot down her spine and through her veins, spreading along her and sparking flashes of agony through her.

She felt so lost in her own mind, all around was darkness: the one thing Clary was beyond terrified of. It felt as if the whole world had melted away, leaving her completely alone and wandering about with no purpose for the rest of her days.

Almost in a detached state, Clary heard herself screaming, the sound ringing and pounding in her ears. She felt warm tears trail down her cheeks, not remotely warm enough to heat up and melt the ice in her veins. More than anything in the world, Clary wanted to look away but it felt like a steel-strong connection between her eyes and Haverley's had taken place, making even the thought of looking away painful.

A flurry of bloody, traumatising images flashed behind her open eyes, behind the clear reality image of Haverley: streams overflowing with blood, the bodies of children rotting in an empty wasteland, people - so many people - screaming and burning and crying out in agony as fire engulfed them, tortured them. The sound of their screaming resonated in her ears, mixing with the sound of her equally tortured one.

"Get out of my _head_!" Clary shrieked, her voice breaking through several octaves. " _Get out! Get out!_ "

Another whirlwind of images replaced the earlier ones, these even worse if it was remotely possible because everyone she loved and cared about starred in them.

" _No, no, no, no_ ," Clary moaned, shaking her head though her eyes remained fixated of Haverley's.

The image of Isabelle being burned alive on a pyre, screaming as the fire scorched, darkened and charred her skin flashed before her eyes. Simon, hung over a cliff by gallows, the noose tight around his neck which was bent at an unnatural angle, several wooden stakes pierced into his chest and his eyes staring sightlessly right at her. Alec, under a horde of demons who were slowly ravishing his skin to a meaty rawness, his blue eyes lifeless. Magnus, his skin melting get off his bones like wax, his mouth open in a final silent scream before it distorted and melted away. Her mother, lying on a bed of blades that stabbed through her, her blood trickling down the deadly weapons. And lastly Jace.

Jace, chained to two rocks by his wrists, both on either side of him. He was shirtless and kneeling, facing a cliff of fire. Welts were raised all over his body as a dark cloaked figure whipped him with a cat-o'-nine-tails, the hooks digging and dragging across Jace's back, destroying the flesh as rivulets of blood streamed down his back and soaked the ground. His screams were deafening before they cut off, his whole figure slumping to the ground, lifeless.

The feeling of dread and despair only increased as time passed and Clary could feel herself slipping into the dark corner of her mind she knew there was no returning from. Once she was there, she would be trapped there forever and there would be no return. Clary's hands scratched around sightlessly for something solid to grip on to, anything that could give her a solid hold to reality but found nothing.

Clary could hear herself screaming _please_ over and over again and she knew she had no idea what she was begging for. Was it death? Or for Haverley to stop?

No words could describe what Clary was going through.

Her vision went white for a moment and she felt a stab of fear in her chest. She gasped, feeling pain sliced through her like a spear tearing it's way to the heart. It was an abnormal pain, an extraordinary pain that originated from fear, too painful for Clary to gather her fading energy to scream audibly. All she could do was open her mouth and silently screamed.

The depression and dread and pain were fading away, disappearing along with her other feelings and emotions: happiness, hope, love, joy, anger, grief, sadness, compassion, hatred, sympathy, empathy...all dissolving away. She was slipping off the cliff of sanity and an aware state of mind, dangling by the very tips of her fingers.

She grew too tired to even blink though her eyes were still open, staring sightlessly at whatever that was in her line of sight. She collapsed to the ground, all the energy sapping from her body.

It took Clary several moments or minutes or hours for her to realize that she was not lying on the floor or seeing white but instead a mess of gold.

 _Gold?_

She felt herselfbeing cradled to a warm chest, held to it by strong hands but her mind barely registered the thoughts she was having. Surprisingly, she could still feel physical pain though she felt utterly lifeless on the inside. On several parts of her body, she could feel light stinging pains which was as easy as lying on a bed of feathers or breathing compared to what she had gone through minutes ago.

"Oh God, _Clary_ ," a fairly familiar voice moaned, the words strangled. "I'm sorry, Clary. I'm _so_ sorry."

It was the voice of a boy who tugged at her memory but she felt so tired. Too tired to search through her memories which were too tainted and painful.

"Jace, some of her wounds aren't healing. I think she used demon metal on Clary," a worried, frantic voice said, piercing through the fog that was gathering in her mind.

"Clary, _Clary, Clary_ ," the boy whispered, sounding so broken. " _Clary, I'm so_ _**sorry**_."

 _Who are you?_

She stared sightlessly at the face of a boy who was inches away from her. He was beautiful, to say the least, with a crown of messy blond hair and a face that befit an angel's. Her mind was blank in an instant, her earlier thoughts forgotten. If Clary could process things properly, she would be confused but she couldn't and didn't. The boy's eyes were now closed-or they could have been closed for a while and Clary only processed it now-and he was clutching her to his chest, one of his hands gently stroking the side of her bloodied face.

"Clary, come back to me _please_ ," the boy moaned, his voice cracking like a thin layer of ice. The emotions in his voice were raw and heartbreaking but Clary found herself listening to them as if they were just a boring speech. "I _need_ you. Simon needs you. Hell, Alec needs you," he choked, cradling her tighter to him. Her head lolled to a side due to the movements he was creating so she was no longer looking at the boy. Instead, she was staring at a puddle of crimson that lay an inch from where she was.

Clary didn't know when she had stopped screaming or crying - she wished she could scream or cry now. It would make her feel less dead but she couldn't find the proper will to do so.

She could barely register the words he was saying to her. It was like the words were traveling through one ear and exiting the other.

" _Please_ , don't leave me again. _Please_. Don't take the whole piece of me that you have inside of you away from me." he choked, sounding like he wanted to cry. " _I love you Clary_."

 _You love me? But I don't know you_.

There was a loud ringing in her ears and it took several other seconds for Clary to realize she was no longer staring at the puddle of crimson but at a dark haired boy with glasses who would have looked terrifying with the expression he had now if he wasn't so _familiar_.

One of his hands were cupping her cheek, his face hard and his mouth shaping words that she couldn't register. She felt a tear slip down her face and Clary felt so tired. If she could just sleep …

The black haired boy launched himself away from Clary, roaring loudly. He took out a dagger and a small sense of fear stabbed it's way into Clary, the worst feeling to make her feel alive again. She inhaled a sharp, strangled breath, sounding like she was having an asthma attack. The angel boy shot back into her vision, his expression raw and wounded and desperate.

Slowly, as if reawakening from a long slumber, her brain began to slowly click again, slowly turning and working in her head. She could process things but she still couldn't remember where she had seen this blond haired boy.

"I love you, Clary. _So much._ _Don't leave me,_ "

 _I'm not leaving. Am I?_

She continued staring at him, watching as his jaw tensed, his odd gold eyes staring, heartbroken, into her own blank ones.

An image flashed behind her open eyes: a picture of a black design.

" _Clary_ ," Jace whispered, his voice shattering at the end, completely heartbroken and anguished. The emotion in his voice awoke something in her, just a small flicker of something heart shattering.

 _Yes. Jace._

 _That was his name._

Shakily bringing her hand up, she captured Jace's shaking hand which was gently caressing her hair, her lips parting to form his name.

"Jace," she gasped, her voice strangled, the name choked on her lips yet it was said with a reverence, like he was her saving grace. She was firmly and tightly grasping onto his name in her head; it was in danger of floating away, threatening to disappear and slip through her fingers.

"Clary," he whispered and before she could do anything else, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers.

She gasped as a shock of electricity went through, momentarily reviving her unresponsive being, the feeling of his lips on hers like a shot of cool water after hours of wandering in a desert. As relieving as a breath of air after drowning.

In that moment, Clary almost felt alive again. A surge of emotions and thoughts threatened to overload her brain but she managed to survive the storm, enduring it like how all people did.

It wasn't the type kiss that was hot, deep, passionate, hungry or lustful where it seemed like they couldn't get enough of each other. This kiss was gentle and soft and intimate and one that spoke purely of love. Any doubts Clary had on his feelings for her melted away completely, leaving this moment one to be savoured, where all seemed right in the world though she knew it wasn't. A moment where she could pretend everything was perfect.

Jace pulled away too soon, pulling her into a sitting position as well, his arm supporting her weight as she weakly leaned back. She felt feeble and brittle, like a single word could shatter her into a million pieces. The airy, weak feeling in her stomach didn't help as well as the spinning, empty feeling that had returned to her mind.

She still felt extremely disoriented, several things still not _clicking_ in her mind. She felt mildly shocked and unresponsive when arms went around her which were not Jace's, pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

"Clary Clary Clary Clary Clary Clary," the dark haired boy with glasses whispered in her ear. The name resonated and floated around in her head for a while like an echo before Clary realized it was her name.

 _My name. Clary._

He pulled back, searching Clary's eyes when she didn't react to his hug. "Clary?"

Distantly, she felt someone shake her shoulders.

"Clary?" a familiar voice said, worried and shaky. The angel boy was in her line of sight again, his mouth shaping her name.

 _Shit. What was his name again?_

She weakly scrunched her eyebrows together, looking at the both of them questioningly. "I don't ..." she whispered softly, her voice breathy and brittle. Trailing off as she lost her train of thought, she blinked once which was a bad idea as Clary found it hard to reopen them. The urge to sleep was impossible to deny but something small yet urgent pressed her consciousness in the back of her mind, not allowing her to fall into oblivion.

 _Oh. His name's Jace. Okay. Right._

" _Jace,_ " she whispered, marveling at the sound of his name.

She shifted her eyes to the familiar dark haired boy and the image of a young boy with dark messy hair, big glasses, big brown eyes and ears too big for his face laughing as he ran away from her flashed before her eyes.

 _You're my best friend._

" _Si-Simon_ ," Clary breathed and Simon breathed in relief, hugging her again. She felt his warm breath tickle the nape of her neck as he hugged her tightly.

Weakly, she brought her arms-which felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each - around Simon, clutching him close. A sob involuntarily slipped from her lips as she recalled what had happened to her when she was here.

"I thought I lost you." he breathed. "We all thought we did."

He pulled away, pressing his lips to her forehead. She looked over his shoulder and saw a boy with black hair - _Alec_ , her mind hissed-stood a few feet watching them with a certain melancholy in his eyes. He held a bow and a poised arrow in his hands, his posture ready and wary.

"We should go," he said quietly. "I don't think we'll survive if we get attacked in here. There were an awful lot of people guarding the place on our way in."

"Wait," a voice spoke up. Simon was nudged aside by a tall man with odd eyes. She looked at him, a dull memory flickering in her mind. He brought his hand up as if to touch her face and she flinched, shying away from him.

 _Don't touch me._

"Clary," he said, his tone gentle and warm. "My name is Magnus. You know me but you probably don't remember me. It's okay. I'm just going to make you feel less tired, okay?"

"Magnus, what are you-?" Jace said, his hand clamping on Magnus's arm.

"Trust me," Magnus said, in the same calm and inviting tone. Hesitantly, Jace withdrew his hand and slipped it between Clary's slender fingers, clutching it tightly.

Watching his hand the whole time, Clary let Magnus approach her.

Instead of reaching for her face, Magnus's hand clamped on her shoulder and Clary felt a stinging electric shock go through her, spreading through her bloodstream like some sort of injected medicine. Immediately, she stiffened, her hand tightening around Jace's.

As if by some miracle, she felt much more … light. She no longer felt as if every movement weighed her down. Exhaustion disappeared and she could blink without wanting to sink to the ground and fall asleep.

 _I don't feel like dying anymore._

And as if truly seeing him for the first time, she felt recognition register in her. " _Magnus_?" she breathed.

Magnus smiled smally at her before he swore loudly, his mood shifting in a flick of a button.

"That _bitch_ -" Magnus used a word that made everyone cringe except Clary, who was trying to process the word and coming out blank. "- Clary's mind. I did what I could to make her better for now but know a spell that can fully fix this but I can't do it here. We need to find Colette and get the hell out of here."

"What? How?" Simon said. Jace was looking at her, his jaw clenched. For a short moment, his eyes flicked away from her before returning.

She followed his gaze and stared emotionlessly at the bloody slumped figure on the floor a few feet away. It took her a moment to realize that what she had thought was blood had turned out to be hair, fanned out on the floor. There _was_ some blood pooling around the pale figure which the red hair belonged to.

"What do you mean by that?" Simon repeated.

The pale figure coughed, making Alec and everyone else whirl on her. She lifted her head up slowly, a maniacal smile on her bloody lips. Blood dripped down her chin from her mouth and onto the floor beneath them.

"He _means_ , that your little is Clary is _almost_ _poof_. Gone. Sayonara." she spat, more blood dribbling down her chin. "If you had only given me another few more seconds, all that would be left of her is an empty shell. I would've _destroyed her_. But even though she's got a small speck of herself in her, you're never going to get her back to herself. She's always going to be a little lost and very distant and empty from now on. And there is _nothing you pathetic Shadowhunters can do about-_ "

She cut off, slumping to the ground as an arrow buried itself in her forehead.

Clary couldn't understand the words that left the girl's mouth. What did she mean? Was she dead? Had the arrow killed her?

She vaguely felt being pulled to her feet by Jace. She was too fixated on the girl's still body. Her mouth was still pulled in a repulsive grin and blood trickled down her forehead from the arrow wound.

"Clary. Clary!" She was pulled out of her staring by Jace who looked undeniably furious yet worried at the same time. She looked at him questioningly.

"We have to go," he said. It took Clary a moment to register his words. When she did, she stared at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Where?" she whispered.

"Away from here." he said, pulling her against him as she started to sway. Her knees felt like jelly so she leaned onto Jace for support.

The next thing Clary knew, they were travelling through the dark tunnels of the dungeons. Simon led the way, holding something that lit the way. She noticed with a frighteningly lack of interest or surprise that her body was no longer littered with cuts and wounds and her forearm mildly burned with a silvery rune.

Something tugged at the back of Clary's memories and she tried to bring it to the front of her mind but it kept slipping back into the dark area of her mind.

"Wait," she croaked, trying to get Jace to halt for a moment. Unfortunately, her actions were feeble and went unnoticed by him.

"Jace, wait," she said, a little more louder this time.

"Clary, we can't stay. It's too dangerous."

"I know but-" Clary cut off, forgetting what she was about to say.

 _What was I going to say?_

 _Something about … 165?_

She stiffened, remembering.

"We … uh … need to go get Isabelle," Clary said, wondering why everyone was looking at her as if she was mad.

A sharp sense of dizziness violently invaded her, her vision blurring and Clary felt herself crumble to the ground before blacking out.

The last thing she heard was her name being said by several different people before hearing went too.

 **A/N - So … how'd you like the chapter? In advance, I'd like to apologise for the coming crappiness in the upcoming chapters. It isn't easy to write from the POV of someone empty, hollow and practicality lifeless who doesn't feel properly so I'm trying to find ways to describe the scenes with feelings without making it look like Clary can fully function and feel. It's a new thing for me so I'm sorry if you hate the upcoming chaps!**

 **P.S. Sorry for the long AN. Go ahead and comment feels and reactions to this chapter.**


	33. Falling to Ashes

**Chapter 32 - Falling to Ashes**

There was a loud ringing in her ears as Clary resurfaced, the black dots and streaks disappearing from her vision as the dungeon shot back into focus.

Hard, uneven and rough surfaces were underneath and behind her. She was sitting on the dusty ground and leaning on the side of one of the cells. Her head spun and her ears rang as she stared at the green and yellow cat-eyed warlock that stared into her eyes.

"There's too much mental damage and stress to her brain. She's _very_ unstable." Magnus said, talking to … someone.

"Is there a rune that could help?" she heard Jace say, his voice like an echo that bounced in her hollow mind.

"Not permanently … I don't know if this will work but maybe a calm or peace rune?" Magnus said.

Jace nudged Magnus aside and held Clary's wrist in his hand. She stared at the top of Jace's blond head which was bended over her hand. She felt the same unfamiliar stinging sensation on her wrist. Slowly, the stinging disappeared, replaced by a radiating warmth.

A comforting sense of peace washed over her, like how waves would wash onto the beach and tickle your toes except only it didn't return back to the sea or disappear.

Clary hadn't realized she was tense until she tiredly leaned back into Jace.

"Clary, Clary," Someone shook Clary's shoulders and her eyes focused on Simon. "You said something about Isabelle. What was it?" he said.

She stared at Simon, trying to make sense of his words. Then the following words that exited her mouth were completely ignorant, as if she hadn't heard a single word Simon had said.

"Where's Isabelle?" she said.

Clary struggled to hold on to the image of the dark haired girl with the silver whip as she watched the somber and alarmed faces crouched around her.

"Clary," Jace said, sighing. "Isabelle - Isabelle isn't here. She's … gone."

Simon's eyes shot towards the ground while Alec tightened his grip on his bow.

 _Gone?_

 _As in, disappeared?_

 _Wait, who are we talking about again?_

Clary's brows furrowed for a moment.

 _Isabelle, you idiot. We were talking about Isabelle._

" _Gone_?" she said, wishing that someone would explain to her the exact definition of _gone_ in this case.

"Yes, Clary. _Gone_." Alec spat angrily. "Dead. Angel wings and a halo."

Jace looked at him sharply, tensing beside Clary. "Don't talk to her like that." he said stiffly. Alec stared at Jace, his eyes belonging to a tortured man. "Please," Jace added, his tone softer, sadness pronounced in his voice.

Alec growled in frustration, exhaling angrily. "Sorry, Clary." he mumbled. Magnus looked at him with hooded eyes, an emotion Clary couldn't decipher in his eyes.

It took Clary a few moments to understand the word _dead_. The word registered in her as if it was just a word as mundane and ordinary as the word _sugar_. Balls. Red. School. Car. Paper. Tree.

"No she's not." Clary said. Her head started to spin and she leaned weakly on Jace, his breathing shaky as she tried to see straight.

"Clary?" Jace said, alarmed as he held her steady.

"Clary, what do you mean by that?" Alec said, looking intently into her eyes.

"Isabelle's _not dead_." Clary said in a monotone, looking at Alec who was beginning to resemble a wanderer in the desert who had found an oasis.

"Clary, are you sure?" Jace asked, his eyes dancing with hope.

 _Yes. No. Maybe._

 _Yes_.

"I saw her."

Alec and Jace's eyes burned with a flame, looking at each other.

Simon stared at Clary, his breathing heavy. "She's alive?" he breathed, seeming to breath for the first time. "She's alive," he whispered, this time to himself.

"Where is she, Clary?" Alec said, gripping her arm lightly.

"I … don't know," Clary said, looking into Alec's shining blue lamps. They were bright blue - an incredible bright blue. Just as incredible as Jace's shining ember chips.

And in a blink of an eyes, the blue chips darkened before her as he leaned back. "What?"

"What do you mean you _don't know_?" Alec said through slightly gritted teeth. The words sounded forced, as if Alec had much more to say than that and in a considerably louder tone.

"I don't -" Clary cut off as she heard the sound of bustling footsteps. Alec, Jace and Simon froze while Magnus seemed unfazed. Jace drew out a weapon, making Clary flinch at the close proximity to such a dangerous object.

" _Where'd you think she went?_ " a low, guttural voice croaked unpleasantly. Clary heard the quiet but piercing unsheathing of a weapon and tensed, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her shirt.

" _I don't know. We'll split up. You go there and I'll go this way,_ " a slightly more boyish and young voice said. There was no response but Clary heard the sound of a single pair of boots walking away, the sound echoing through the underground tunnels, fading as it walked further away.

The other pair of boots started walking, getting louder and closer to them.

"I'll get answers myself." Alec muttered and ducked out from their hiding place. Jace reached forward but Alec had already dissappeared. Jace cursed softly, scurrying after his _parabatai_ immediately and the sounds of a scuffle ensued almost immediately.

" _Alec_ ," Magnus hissed.

"C'mon," Simon, who had immediately replaced Jace's spot beside her the moment he left to follow Alec, said, gently pulling Clary to her feet. His arm wrapped around her, more so to keep her steady than to comfort.

Coming out from their hiding spot, Clary saw that Jace stood a few feet from her, unharmed and still while Alec had shoved a young boy who looked no older than her against the wall beside an empty cell, a blade to his throat. Alec's bow had been slung across his back, making his hands free.

The young boy had a crown of messy roguish blond hair and brown eyes that would have been warm and welcoming if it did not contain the cold hostility that hardened them. They hardened further when they landed on Clary. His lips curled back in hostility, trying to get free from Alec's hold.

"You. _You._ " he hissed. "You annoying little -"

Alec grabbed the front of the boy's shirt and pulled back before harshly slamming him back against the wall, efficiently silencing him. The sound of his skull hitting the wall was sickening but it barely made it to Clary's mind before exiting through her other ear. Jace stepped forward, his hand tightening on his weapon, his arm tense and ready.

"Shut up." Alec hissed. The boy scowled at him, keeping his cold brown eyes firmly locked on Clary with a burning hatred.

Clary noticed vaguely that Jace shifted slightly so he was hiding her from the boy's view. She could still see a peek of him, just his face and a sliver of the back of Alec's head, just by the corner of Jace's shoulder.

"Where is my sister?" Alec spat.

The boy looked at Alec impassively. "I don't know who and what the hell you're talking about."

"Listen here, I can make your death _very_ painful or _quick_." Alec said threateningly though the boy merely reacted as if Alec had been telling him a nursery rhyme.

"But I'll be dead either way, won't I?" he said, smiling lazily. The corners of his mouth were hard as he glared into Alec's eyes, occasionally looking at Jace.

"Yes. So you can die painlessly or screaming as you get to hell."

"Hmm," the boy hummed. "I'd prefer the option where I call for help and you guys get caught and _we_ get _her_." the boy said darkly, jerking his head in Clary's direction. Jace dissappeared from his position in front of her. He had seemed to somehow appear instantaneously in front of the boy without moving from his earlier spot.

"I think he said shut up." Jace growled darkly. Alec backed away slightly, allowing Jace to take center stage. Jace fisted one hand tightly in the boy's shirt while his other hand held a dagger that was positioned at the corner of the boy's mouth, digging into his flesh.

"Tell me, do you have a name?" Jace said, his hand tightening on the hilt of the dagger.

The boy stared back defiantly at Jace, glaring at him silently. Jace pressed the dagger and it cut into the corner of the boy's mouth. His eyes widened in alarm as blood ran down his chin.

"Name." Jace repeated.

"Nik." he spat.

"Well, Nik. If you don't tell me where the _hell_ my sister is, you're going to be screaming, either for help or mercy with your entire lower mouth flapping open." Jace said softly. "And you seem like the type of guy to save your own ass, Nik. So tell me. Where. Is. My. Sister?"

"They just took her to the feeding room, okay?" Nik said reluctantly. He winced as more blood dribbled down his chin.

Distantly in her head, Clary knew she should have felt a slight disgust and anger towards Nik but she just stared blankly at him, watching Jace threaten him, the feelings not coming to her.

"What the _heck_ is a feeding room?" Alec said in a low voice.

Slowly, Nik's lips pulled into a cruel smile. "Think of it as a dining room. It's a feeding chamber for _nasty things_ and your sister is _fresh meat._ "

A man with broad shoulders and dressed in black and red like Nik appeared from, around the corner, wielding a sword with a black, gleaming blade.

" _Alec, Jace_!" Clary hadn't open her mouth yet to warn them so the words hadn't even left her mouth. Simon had beat her to it. Alec whirled around, his bow ready in his hand. He reached back and withdrew an arrow before launching it at the approaching man. The arrow buried itself in the man's forehead and he fell backwards like a fallen pillar, crashing to the ground.

"C'mon," Jace muttered, seizing Nik by his throat and holding him to his chest, the dagger still at his mouth. "You're taking us to the feeding room."

"I never said anything about taking you to the feeding room." Nik said. His ears twitched like a cat as he picked up something with his ears. "And I never will."

"Wha-?" Jace started but cut off when he leapt away from Jace, snatching the dagger from him. Nik made no move towards Jace but smiled - Clary didn't know was it because he had no intention to or he didn't get the chance - when an arrow buried itself in his left eye. Nik fell backwards, his smile still cruelly etched onto his face.

Jace whirled around, his eyes landing on Alec whose hands were still ready with his bow, one hand reached back, ready to retrieve another arrow. His eyes were hard, looking at Jace. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes ..." Jace said.

Faintly, Clary could hear the sound of rushing feet and Jace cursed softly under his breath.

" _Let's go_ ," he said and they took off running.

Well, for Clary, she was pulled along by Simon, her legs moving quickly as if on autopilot. Everything that was happening around her, everything that she was doing felt like it was on autopilot. She could feel everything that she was doing but it felt mechanical, as if the movements and words that left her mouth had been programmed into her. She said things, did things, without really _feeling_.

" _This way_!" Jace said, looking back at Clary. He slowed down and joined her at her side, taking her from Simon who reached for his weapons when his hands were free.

"How do you know?" Alec asked as they ran past more empty cells.

"I've - I've been here before." Jace said. She could hear the raw unnerved tone of his voice, as if the knowledge of him _knowing_ this place scared him.

"How?" Alec asked incredulously. Magnus looked at Jace suspiciously but shook it off, bright sparks still buzzing from his fingers.

Jace didn't answer but kept running, his one arm kept firmly around Clary protectively as they did.

There was a loud shriek behind them. Jace spun around, nudging Clary behind him as he held an angel blade in one hand. Simon was fighting a robust woman with black hair, leaping back as the woman brought the sword she was holding in a wide swinging arc. It managed to slice through the fabric of Simon's jacket.

Alec slammed one end of his bow into the woman's chest and brought it across her face, knocking her out cold as another two women in black and red joined the woman. Simon leapt forward and plunged his sword into one of the oncoming women. She screamed before slumping to the ground.

"Go!" Jace shouted as three men turned the corner and appeared, charging for them with their own weapons raised. Magnus shot the electric blue sparks at them; they hit one of the men, momentarily stunning him. Jace lunged forward, his weapon looking like a natural extension of his arm. More blue sparks shot out from Magnus's hands, seeming to momentarily electrocute the soldiers.

Simon looked up at Clary and rushed to her side. He took her hand and hesitantly pulled her away from the fight.

" _Go, Simon_. We'll be right behind you. _Go_!" Jace snarled, blocking the attack of one of the armed men. Already Alec and Jace had begun to back away so Simon pulled Clary along as he ran.

"Go after the girl! Bring her back to the _suzerain_ and kill the boy!" Clary heard. Simon swore loudly and ran faster.

There was the sound of a strangled scream followed by a gurgling as the clash of weapons resumed.

Jace appeared beside Clary as they ran, one side of his face smeared with fresh blood.

"This way," he gasped, steering Clary and Simon through the dungeon. Jace swore and spun, his weapon raised. Clary looked back, witnessing Jace being punched in the stomach by a man who had bands of muscles for arms. Simon stopped, spinning around. Jace grunted before slamming the end of his sword into the man's temple.

Another soldier in black and red reared up behind Jace and held Jace in place from behind. An arrow embedded itself into the shoulder of the man that held Jace as the big he held plunged a knife into his neck. The man released Jace, falling into a lifeless heap on the ground. The remaining soldier looked stunned as he gave his fallen comrade a quick glance before growling and attacking Jace.

Clary didn't see what exactly had hit the man and had caused him to crumble to the floor, unconscious. She suspected that either Jace had used the hilt of his weapon to knock him out or Magnus had knocked him out with magic.

"C'mon. I think I know where the feeding room is," Jace said quietly as they began to run again.

He led them down a brightly lit corridor, one without cells.

"Jace," Simon said cautiously. "How do you know we're going in the right directions?"

Before Jace could answer, snarls and growls echoed through the corridor.

Jace swore. "Isabelle," he said and zipped over to a closed door that was identical to the rest in the corridor. He kicked the door twice before it flew off its hinges. They joined Jace, peering into what was beyond the door.

" _By the Angel,_ " Alec breathed in horror at the sight before him.

The room was occupied by at least a dozen creatures that should have sent shocks of horror and disgust into Clary. The bodies of the creatures resembled the bodies of insects - centipedes, spiders, scorpions - while they stood on hairy spider like legs. For faces some of them had disfigured beady eyes and pincers that dripped with green goo while some, the more horrifying ones, had the faces of human beings, all staring at them lifelessly wide eyed and openmouthed. Some of the creatures had the limbs of humans occasionally protruding from their abdomens like an extra body part.

For a moment, the snarls were silenced as the _creatures_ in the room looked at them warily. But Jace nor Alec nor Simon were focusing on the horde of _creatures_ that gathered in the room. They were all staring at a slender girl with dark messy hair standing a little to the side of the horde, a long bloodied silver and gold whip trailing on the ground beneath her which was pooling with blood.

 _Isabelle._

Her eyes shot up and widened at the sight of them. Her lips pulled into a small smile. "Join the party," she said.

The words seemed to have been a wake up call to the creatures in the room as snarls and wary growls slipped past their mouths.

"Sorry we're late," Jace replied. Clary could see the complete joy and relief in his features. He slid a seraph blade out of his pocket, naming it.

Slowly, the Shadowhunters stepped into the room, their bodies tensed and coiled, ready to attack if any of the creatures moved towards them. The creatures hissed from the bright glare of the seraph blade, shying away from the bright light it emitted.

"I believe you have my sister." Jace said in the most carefree tone she had ever heard before he attacked. The creatures, which resembled human-demon disfigurements howled and retaliated, their claws extending and dangerous.

Jace stabbed the seraph blade he was holding into one of the creatures, the blade easily cutting through the creature's slimy skin. It fell to a side, letting out a high pitched keening, it's spider like legs twitching before stilling. Jace almost smiled in satisfaction before the parted skin stitched together and the creature sprung to life. He flung his seraph blade and it embedded itself in the creature's open human mouth. It gurgled, choking on the blade before exploding in a cloud of fiery sparks and ash.

In her peripheral vision, Clary saw a flash of silver and gold and she felt herself being showered in ash. She turned her head and saw Isabelle smiling quickly at her before launching herself into the fight.

"Stay here, Clary." Simon said as he threw himself at one of the creatures. Blue, green and purple sparks were flying and dancing across the room, hitting the creatures and incapacitating them for a while - just in time for the Shadowhunters to stick a blade through their brains.

Clary did what she was told and stayed were she was, staring at the fight blankly. It was over in what felt like a heartbeat.

Not many of the creatures had noticed her or tried to attack her and those that did were killed by one of the Shadowhunters before they even got within arms length.

The floors of the large room were dusted with a gray layer of ash that stirred when someone walked, their boots sending light puffs of the ash into the air before gently sifting back onto the ground.

Jace stood in the middle of the room, covered in blood and ash and sweat, one arm of his jacket shredded off. His hair hung in lanky, grime covered curls, plastered to the side of his face with sweat. He wiped the blood covered sword he was holding on the whole sleeve of his jacket. He looked up at Clary, his face emotionless as he walked over to her.

Alec was breathing heavily, his bow gripped tightly in one hand. Tiredly, he brought the back of his injured righton his hand up to his forehead and wiped away the sweat. The action left a strip of blood on his forehead though he didn't seem to notice. Magnus, however, did and endearingly wiped away what he could with the sleeve of his trench coat.

Isabelle and Simon stood a few feet away from her, caught in a passionate embrace, Isabelle's hand harshly and rather passionately yanking on his hair as their lips moved in sync. Simon pulled back, leaning his forehead against Isabelle's, his eyes shut.

"I thought I lost you, Iz." Simon whispered, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

Clary had been so preoccupied with staring at Simon and Isabelle that she hadn't realized that Jace was standing in front of her, asking her a question.

"Clary," Jace said, stroking her cheek. She looked up at him, tearing her gaze from the reunited couple. "Are you okay?"

She stared blankly at him for a moment before mechanically nodding.

Jace smiled.

It was a small smile that was barely a smile, fueled with sadness and pain.

"Jace," Clary heard Isabelle call.

He turned around and pulled Isabelle into a tight embrace, his hands clenched into fists.

"Hey. Calm down. I'm alright," she said lightly, pulling away. Her dark, wide eyes fell on Clary and she almost smiled before confusion set in her eyes and her forehead creased.

"Clary?"

"Isabelle ..." Jace started and trailed off. She walked past him and stood in front of Clary, scrutinising her blank look.

"Clary?" she said again. Clary only stared back.

"What did they _do_ to you?" Isabelle whispered, horrified as her eyes raked Clary's body.

Clary looked down at herself and saw that her shirt was crisp and bloody, her arms smeared and crusted on places with dried blood. Her jeans were ripped in places and darker in patches due to the blood that had soaked into the denim fabric.

"You know?" Alec said.

"I could hear the screams and the bastards that threw me in here didn't mind sparing me some details," Isabelle said in disgust. Jace's eyes hardened and his knuckles whitened alarmingly.

Suddenly, Isabelle swore loudly, making Clary flinch. "I'm going to kill them!"

"Not now. We need to get Clary back to the Institute and get all of us out of here. Magnus knows something that can help her." Alec said, putting a hand on Isabelle's shoulder.

"Wait," Magnus said. Gently, he nudged Alec aside with a quiet _excuse me_. He grabbed Isabelle by the chin and whispered something under his breath. A green aura floated around Isabelle and Magnus stepped back, satisfied. "Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were really you."

Isabelle looked at him in confusion and decided she would ask him later. Jace handed Isabelle several seraph blades. She gladly accepted them, slipping them into the belt at her waist.

Clary froze when she felt the tip of a blade press up against the side of her ribs, a cool voice whispering in her ear.

"Nice to see I've found you again, cupcake," Fria giggled in her ear. "Follow me or this one dies," she said cheekily. Clary could almost hear the demented laughter in her voice. Jace, Alec and Simon's hands were frozen at their weapons belts, glaring at the girl behind Clary. "Hands down!" Fria barked. Slowly, their hands returned to their sides.

"Ah-ah! No!" Fria said loudly. Isabelle's hand clenched into a fist, her whip loosely uncoiled from her wrist. She must have tried to use it. Clary winced as the blade dug into her ribs, probably breaking skin.

"All of you, out the door. Someone's been absolutely _dying_ to see you all." Fria giggled as the tip of the blade dug deeper into Clary's side.

 **A/N - Yay! So Isabelle's not dead. Okay, so the reason Clary's like this is because her mind has been under too much pressure so it's basically snapped and has shut down. We only have about 3 more chapters and then the epilogue before we are done! Comment if you're happy Izzy isn't dead.**


	34. The Suzerain

**Chapter 33 - The Suzerain**

Clary couldn't count the number of times a weapon had been threatening held to her body and used to hurt her in the last two hours.

Jace, Alec, Simon, Magnus and Isabelle walked in front to her, three of the soldiers in red and black accompanying them.

" _Walk_ ," Fria hissed when Jace tried to shake the hold that one of the soldiers had on his arm. "Or your little Clarissa gets it."

They walked in conversational silence, the only sound audible was the sound of boots against the floor and someone's harsh, labored breathing.

"Smart," Magnus commented, his speech heavy and breathy. His head was bowed slightly, his arms limp at his side. Clary realized it was Magnus who had been breathing heavily.

"What?" Fria said, a little too loud in Clary's ear.

"You putting a spell up." he said, sounding amused.

"What _spell_?"

"Don't play dumb. Though you're a little girl, you know quite a wealth of things about spells."

"I'm not a little girl." Fria shot at Magnus, avoiding the topic.

"No. You're just a very feminine man." Jace said, the sarcasm in his voice sharp and piercing.

Magnus ignored Jace and continued though Fria seemed livid with Jace's snide remark as the already painful grip she had on Clary's hand tightened even more, threatening to cut off her blood circulation.

"Move," she spat. "And shut up."

"No," Magnus said, sounding tired though Clary could hear his smile. "I want to talk about your spell."

Fria didn't reply.

"I'm quite surprised. You're a warlock … yet I can't see a warlock's mark on you." Magnus continued to speculate. "And I can sense that you're a Downworlder but I can't sense _what_. Usually I'm very good at that because I've lived for a _very long time_ and sensing other Downworlders are -"

"I'm not a Downworlder!" Fria spat. "I am _not_ one of you _weak_ creatures. I'm so much more and so much more powerful. I could snap princess's neck like a toothpick if I wanted!"

"Magnus ..." Jace said cautiously, almost as a growl, his body tense.

"I would use magic to get us out of this mess, but you're blocking me. Sapping me of my energy ..." Magnus said as if he were awed.

"It seems like you've got everything figured it out." Fria said curtly, grinding her teeth in Clary's ear.

"No. I haven't. You can use magic but … you're a vampire." Magnus mused. "You look like a vampire. You act like one and look like one ..."

"I'm surprised you're not dead, Isabelle." Fria said, ignoring Magnus. "The _suzerain_ told me you were dead."

"Sorry to disappoint," Isabelle spat. "What do you want?"

"You'll get your answers soon enough." Fria said.

She flung them all into a empty, circular open room. Clary felt her head thud against the floor and pain blossomed through her skull, making her vision blur for a moment.

"Clary!"

She felt herself being lifted off the ground and she leaned weakly against the body that held her. It happened to be Simon.

"Hello, everyone."

Clary froze at the voice as she hesitantly turned her head to look at the owner of the voice.

The fair haired woman with silvery hair stood at the other end of the large round room, smiling at them gleefully. Her eyes landed on Isabelle and the smile disappeared. She cocked her head to a side before a small, controlled smile returned to her face.

"Hello," she said again. "You can wait outside, Fria." Clary heard a pair of heavy doors close with a horrifying echoing finality.

Jace and Alec took a step forward at the same time, their eyes wide, their hands flying to their belts.

" _Consul Ravenshade?_ " Jace said, his tone questioning and incredulous.

"The Consul," Clary heard Isabelle whisper beside her.

"You're behind all of this?" Alec said incredulously.

"Well, I wouldn't say _all_ of it. I'm just the mortal puppet that carries out _his_ requests and orders." the Consul said. "Who would have thought? Sarrah Ravenshade, Consul of the Nephilim Clave is behind all this?"

"What do you want?" Jace said hardly.

"I have already told Clary that I need her willing cooperation and just a cup of her blood. You know, the typical cliche blood thing that we villains have a knack for?" Sarrah waved her hand in the air, gesturing theatrically. "Do you know what _wonders_ angel blood can do? Shadowhunter blood, though not as potent as the real thing, is _perfect_ for most rituals."

"Why do you need her blood?"

Sarrah flashed them all a smile that could have sent ice cold daggers down her spine instead of just ice. "Just because."

"No, you want her blood for a reason. Tell me or so help me I will -"

"I couldn't even if I wanted to, Jonathan." Sarrah laughed. Her laughter died down until she was silent. "What to do? The whole gang is here now ..."

"Let me help you with that decision." Jace said, pulling free a seraph blade. Sarrah looked at him questioningly.

"What would that be?" Sarrah asked, amused.

"You could kindly lower yourself onto my angel blade and end your life before I end yours." Jace said, imitating Sarrah's carefree tone. He held the seraph blade threateningly, running one hand along the length of the blade as he looked up at her through his long eyelashes.

"Or, I could do something else." Sarrah said, her hands going behind her back as she slowly walked along the perimeter of the circular room. "Do you know how _easy_ it was to get Clarissa in my grasp. It's the amazing how much power you have as the Consul,"

"You sent one of your goons to kidnap Clary from the Institute. Not _that_ hard." Jace said, unimpressed as his eyes watched and followed her like a hawk.

"Oh, Jonathan, I'm not talking about _earlier_. I'm talking about _Los Angeles_." Sarrah said, smiling knowingly. Jace stiffened but Sarrah continued. "Do you know how _easy_ it was send her to Los Angeles and kidnap her along the way, Jonathan?"

"My name _isn't_ Jonathan. It's Jace." Jace said sharply. Sarrah looked at him as if he was speaking pig Latin.

"Jonathan _is_ the name your father gave you, didn't he?" Sarrah asked innocently though there was a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"My father never gave me a name. He died before he could." Jace said calmly compared to the sharp earlier bark. "But my family did. They gave me the name Jace so that is my name."

"And the Lightwoods, I assume, are your family, I presume?" Sarrah said, amused. Jace stared back at her hardly, not answering. A smile of disbelief played on her lips. "It is _so_ cute that you think that."

Jace arched an eyebrow in confusion but Sarrah waved him off. "Anyways, back to the original topic … I was so surprised when none of you got suspicious that the Clave would send someone from the _New York Institute_ to the _Los Angeles Institute_ to help with a demon problem _none of you_ heard of. Didn't it occur that if an Institute has a shortage of Shadowhunters, reinforcements or help would be sent from _Idris_?"

Jace kept his face impassive though his hand was curled tightly around the hilt of his seraph blade.

"But by the Angel, she was a _fighter_. You should have seen the fight she put up, _just_ _for a stele._ " Sarrah laughed at a memory. "I think she even killed one of my soldiers," she said thoughtfully.

The word _stele_ made her mind tickle with a thought and she fought hard to reach it. It slipped through her fingers, disappearing into that dark corner of her mind again.

"What did you do to her?" Jace said quietly. "Her Marks, her memories ..."

Sarrah smiled. "Nice to see you've taken an interest. What I did to her … it's best that I don't go into so _much_ detail." she said, her cold eyes falling on Clary. "But you should have heard how she _screamed_ for you, Jace. You should have heard how she called for you again and again and _again_ and you _never. Showed. Up_."

Sarrah's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "The first two days, she was strong, quiet, _resistant_. But after that she screamed all day and night, crying for you and her best friend and her _parabatai_ and I think, for a while, she actually, _truly_ believed all or one of you would show up to save her. And then she realized - after a few days, might I add - that her knights in shining armor weren't going to save her like how they always did. After that little moment of realization, she wasted away."

By now, Jace was shaking, his knuckles alarmingly white as his hand clenched and unclenched around his blade. Clary thought she saw his hands glow ever so slightly.

"Stop it," Isabelle spat, her voice wavering and cracking at the end.

"I think she barely even noticed the pain after a while. Did you, Clary?" Sarrah asked. Clary stared back at her emotionlessly, trying to make sense of her words. "I guess so," she said dismissively when Clary didn't reply, the cruel smile returning to her lips.

"She would say your name in her sleep, Jonathan and wake up screaming for you but you. Never. Came."

An arrow whistled through the air, aimed for Sarrah.

With a frightening similarity to someone, Sarrah seized the arrow out of mid air before it could embed itself in her neck. "A very quick, fast and clean release, might I say, Alexander but not nearly fast enough to kill me." Sarrah said, her voice marred with interest and arrogance as she snapped the bow she was holding in half as if it were a toothpick. "I can feel your magic trying to harm me, Magnus Bane. It won't work so save your energy," Magnus gritted his teeth. Sarrah's eyes landed on Clary before lazily shifting to Jace.

"And it seems, Jonathan, that you have failed to come and save your Clarissa once again." she said, fake melancholy in her voice.

"Jace," Isabelle said just as Alec fired another arrow at Sarrah. She smacked it away as if it were a mere fly.

"Don't," Jace said quietly when Alec tried to put a hand on his shoulder. Jace looked up at Sarrah, his eyes burning. For just a moment, his eyes met Clary's and they were filled with agony and painful self hatred and sadness before snapping back to Sarrah.

"And what about Keayla Ashworth?" Jace said, his shoulders stiff.

"That little traitor," Sarrah spat. "She abandoned me and my research and disappeared with _her_ ," she hissed, glaring at Clary. "She took all her research with her, leaving me stuck. When she went missing, _everything_ stopped."

"You're sick. Your experiments - you experimented on _children_. _On babies_." Isabelle said, her voice dripping with disgust.

"I have given a new life to the experiments. I know, Isabelle you have seen something like this before, haven't you? The experiments? The experiments you saw the last time were flawed, _weak_. I have improved it and soon, it will be perfect." Sarrah said, gesturing in the air with one hand.

"If you improved them, why are they still dying? It's sickening -"

"Sick? I call it _humane_." Sarrah said with wide eyes. She took several steps towards them - there was something elegant and airy about the way she walked. "The real world isn't what it used to be, Isabelle. If you ask me, those that get a chance to live, that are alive today like you and me are cursed - unfortunate to be alive in this cruel world."

"That was _very_ poetic and all eye opening and I think I _might_ have cried but you still killed _innocent_ children" Jace said hardly, his voice rough.

"Believe what you will, Jonathan. We all have a different eye on the world so I don't blame you for being blind."

She looked at Clary, her eyes narrowing, switching moods again. "Your mother ran away and hid you from me. So I tracked her down finally and killed her." Sarrah said with a smile.

"But can I let you in on a secret, Clarissa?" Sarrah said, walking closer. Jace appeared before Clary, blocking her from Sarrah. "Calm down, Jonathan. I just want to talk to Clary."

"She can hear you from over here _just fine_." Jace said, his voice still shaky.

"Fine," Sarrah said, sounding resigned. "She took you away after your memory was wiped clean, intending to get your blood willingly before you died."

Jace froze. "What?"

Sarrah laughed lightly. "Right. Let me explain. You see, before that vermin traitor left me and ran away, she was actually watching you for me, intending to get you to give your blood willingly before you died. I had a spell put on you. You were _supposed_ to die within four months or so … the seizures and dreams _should_ have killed you." Sarrah said bitterly.

Faintly, Clary remembered the time when she had woken up from a nightmare and her heart had stopped.

"Why are you telling us all this?" Alec sounded confused as he looked Sarrah incredulously.

"Because, I have no need for the information that I'm telling you any more and you knowing this may even out the game because, in all complete honesty, you have, at this point, zero chance in stopping what's coming."

"Wha-?" Alec started but was cut off by Sarrah.

"So Keayla ran and hid you when some … _maternal_ feelings reappeared in her. She, I guessed, received help from a warlock to get that spell put off you ..." Sarrah said.

Clary felt something being pressed into her hand. Not looking down because she had a slight idea what it was, she weakly gripped it, taking it from Simon. Her mind slowly worked as she tried to remember what to do with it.

When the cylindrical object was in her hand, it was cool to the touch and it sent a tickling thrill up her arm. She had an image of the owner or rather, _felt_ who it belonged to. It gave off a slight wave of the person's personality and aura.

 _Simon_.

"And you killed her in cold blood for it." Jace said as if he were just stating an accepted fact.

"Believe me, I offered her a place her if she returned and we would take Clary off her hands. But she was too _arrogant_ to come back to me. So I killed her."

Jace laughed in disbelief. It was a dry, bitter laugh that held no humor. "She didn't do it because she was _arrogant_. She loved Clary and she did it to protect her."

" _Lies!_ " Sarrah hissed. "Fria!"

Fria ran into the room, bowing lowly to Sarrah. "My _suzerain_ ," she whispered, saying it with a reverence.

"I've delayed for too long." Sarrah said, looking at all of them hardly. Fria nodded and walked towards them, a sadistic half smile on her lips.

Jace moved in front of Clary, seraph blades in both of his hands. "Fria, wait." Sarrah said calmly.

Fria stopped, looking at Sarrah, awaiting her next order. "Let my daughter handle them. Colettia!"

Clary saw Jace, Alec and Isabelle stiffen and she felt Simon shift uncomfortably behind her. "Colettia!"

And from the shadows of the doorless doorway on the other side of the, Colette Ravenshade appeared, looking feeble and unsure.

A string of obscenities launched from Isabelle's mouth, aimed at Colette. She winced, seeming much more vulnerable.

"Help your mother out, Colettia. Get me Clarissa."

"But … mother -"

" _Now_ , Colettia." Sarrah said, her voice sharp and loud. Colette winced, flinching. "Do _not_ disappoint me."

"Wait!" Alec screamed, the word echoing around the room. Fria froze, looking to Sarrah who held a hand up, looking at Alec questioningly. "What _are_ we going to face. You said we have no chance against it."

Sarrah smiled at this. "He goes by many names. _The Great Darkness_ is one of them. And he is going to come for _all of you_."

"And he is going on claim every single Nephilim soul on Earth very soon." Sarrah said, a curled anticipating smile on her lips. Colette blanched. "The Darkness will come and the earth will darken and tremble in fear in his presence and when the Darkness comes, every soul will be his."

Her sentence hung in the air like gasoline awaiting for a match to be thrown. All the Shadowhunters and Magnus were frozen, the words acting like ice. Sarrah and Fria continued smiling until Alec spoke.

"No."

Sarrah's smile never faltered. "There's no stopping it, Alexander."

"It may happen, but not if we can stop it. And your soon will be our forever." Jace said, sounding as if he were smiling.

Fria straightened up suddenly, her face alarmed. "My _suzerain_ -"

A small relieved smile lit Colette's face.

"What are you saying, Herondale?" Sarrah said, sounding bored.

"My _suzerain_ -" Fria said again, withdrawing a blade.

"What he means is that it's not going to happen anytime today." Magnus said smugly.

Voices and battle cries could be heard from the other side of the double oak doors. Sarrah looked at them, fire burning in her eyes.

"What did you do?" she said angrily. Fria had disappeared down the dark hallway Colette had appeared, screaming something in a language she didn't understand.

"I may or may not have the Clave about this and my guess is that they are going to burst through those doors in 15 … 14 …" Jace said, his voice dry and cruel.

"But this place is _untrackable_. _Untraceable_." Sarrah said.

"13 … 12 …"

"We have our ways." Simon said hardly.

"11 … 10 … 9 … 8 ..."

"How did they get in? This place is Fort Knox." Sarrah said, much calmer. The screams and voices got louder, closer.

"7 … 6 … 5 ..."

"Never underestimate the Clave."

"4 … 3 … 2 … 1."

Nothing happened. "It wasn't very smart of you, Sarrah, to choose here for your asylum. Not smart to choose somewhere me and _him_ know." Jace said.

On cue, the double heavy doors behind them flung open, hitting the wall with a deafening bang as Shadowhunters, members of the Clave, streamed through the doors, wielding weapons and looking like avenging angels in black. Some of the Shadowhunters ran around the six of them like water around a rock while some stayed hesitantly behind them. Several dozen Shadowhunters poured into the enormous, empty room, barely occupying one fourth of the space.

Monsters and demons and soldiers appeared from the dark hallway, screeching and hissing.

Clary could hear gasps from the crowd of Shadowhunters.

"The Consul."

"The Consul."

" _Consul Ravenshade._ "

" _Consul Ravenshade and her daughter._ "

" _Ravenshade_."

"The Consul."

" _Ave_ , fellow members of the Nephilim Clave." Sarrah said, with a calm smile. The creatures chittered and growled impatiently behind Sarrah. She turned her head slightly, a gentle smile on her lips. "In a moment, my pets."

"How _dare_ you betray the Clave?" one of the Shadowhunters screamed.

"You took an _oath_!"

Sarrah smiled. "There are far greater forces at work here than your petty oaths, my fellow Shadowhunters. You can now join me now or die. What I'm offering you will be your salvation. The Great Darkness will come and he will kill every Nephilim until this world will have to stand on its own."

"The Angel has given us a mandate to protect the world from the likes of you, Ravenshade and that is what we will do." a clear and familiar authoritative voice said.

"So be it for you, Lightwood but what about the rest?"

Silence replied Sarrah's question. Her eyes narrowed and though she didn't look angry, she looked disappointed.

"Very well." Sarrah sighed before saying something in the incomprehensible language. The creatures and soldiers lunged forward, screeching.

The two sides crashed together, the sound of chittering, cries and the crash of metal against metal filling the air.

In that moment, Clary remembered something that had felt like several lifetimes ago.

 _Shadowhunters, looking better in black than the widows of our enemies since 1234._

 **A/N - What did you think? I'm sorry to say that the next chapter is the last one before the epilogue :( I'm going to miss writing this story...**


	35. The Angel's Language

**Chapter 34 - The Angel's Language**

Clary didn't think she had ever heard such a horrible sound. It was an earsplitting pitched keening of snarls and cries mixed with the sound of soft flesh being ripped apart as weapons sliced through flesh and flesh was being ripped off the bone. Clary winced at the awful noise.

Through the sea of black and monsters, Clary thought she saw a head of fiery red hair and swore that it could have been Jocelyn.

"Retrieve Clarissa!" Clary heard Sarrah scream, her voice somehow managing to overthrow the sound of violence and battle around them.

Jace cursed loudly, retreating until he was standing directly in front of Clary, his back almost touching her.

"Simon, I need you to - " Jace cut off as a demon reared up behind him. He spun around and brought his seraph blade down on it. He shoved the demon backwards until it was swallowed up by the fighting Shadowhunters and creatures.

 _Thump_. An arrow flew past Clary before embedding in the face of a demon that had reared up beside her, dripping yellow goo that sizzled from its gaping mouth. It skittered backwards, snarling. Simon threw himself at it, a blade in his hand.

Clary willed herself into coherence, gripping the stele more tightly in her hand. Alec had a concentrated look on his face as he steadily let arrow after arrow fly. By the time one arrow was in the air, Alec was already knocking another, letting it fly in the very next second. The demons reeled back, hissing as they clawed at the arrows that were in their flesh.

Occasionally, flashes of silver shot out as Isabelle's whip wrapped around the demons. Her whip wrapped around a demon's neck and she yanked back harshly, the electrum whip slicing into the skin as if it were paper and decapitated the demon. It exploded in a shower of ashes and guts that fell to the floor.

Jace fell on one of the demons, bringing his seraph blade down on it, repetitively stabbing it as it thrashed and jerked underneath him. At one point in time, he had lost one of the seraph blades that he held leaving him with one.

He rolled off the demon just as it burst into ashes. Alec pulled him up and he scowled, rubbing his shoulder. "I am _seriously_ starting to hate demons."

Clary wanted to do something, _anything_ , to help them but she couldn't make her limbs move.

Blue sparks flew from Magnus's hands, shooting past her and missing her by a hair though Clary doubted he had successfully missed her when she smelt singed hair. An arrow shot past Magnus ear, burying itself in a demon that had reared up behind him. Magnus grinned at Alec, sending him a flying kiss before attacking several of the _creatures_ at once.

Two soldiers made their way across the room, through the fight and now stood several feet from her, bleeding and sweaty. They were both men and were both looking at her with a hungry expression.

Clary looked around and dread filled her at the sight of her preoccupied friends, all fighting their own battles. The closest people to her were Jace who was swiftly dodging several claws of the demons and creatures that surrounded him and Simon who was trapped under a massive demon with serrated teeth, Isabelle rushing to his aid.

Unconsciously, her hand, the one with the stele in it moved. The stele suddenly felt very warm and very alive in her grip, as if it were an extension of her arm.

"What are you going to do, little girl? Draw us to death?" one of the soldiers said, full of spite.

 _Maybe that's what I'll do._

The stele rested on her arm and she began drawing, pouring whatever she felt into the stele. Her hand moved in its own accord, Clary allowing the urge to draw to flow into the stele and onto her hand. The stinging of the stele against her skin as she drew brought some life and focus into Clary.

"No games, Clarissa. It makes me more annoyed with you." the more bulkier of the two said, scowling.

The two men approached her, both drawing out weapons that looked sharp enough to disembowel an elephant. She took a step back as they closed in on her. Her hand with the stele fell away, weakly falling to her side.

She felt the rune work, making her blood fizz in her like it was boiling or spiked with adrenaline. She didn't know what it would do but she could feel the burst of energy it gave her. She also felt warmer, all of a sudden.

One of the men clamped his hand on her arm and he reared back, howling in pain. His hand was a raw red, wisps of smoke rising from his raw flesh. Blisters were raised on his palm as he clutched his injured hand.

His comrade made a grab at Clary, carefully touching her only her clothing and not her skin. He squeezed tightly, his fingernails digging into her flesh through the fabric of her shirt. He yanked Clary forward, making her almost stumble and fall.

He suddenly gasped before his hand released her and flew to his chest. Blood seeped through his fingers and spilled onto the ground, his eyes flying wide. The man was then flung away, Jace standing in front of her with a furious expression that could have melted diamonds.

"Didn't your mommy ever teach you to not hurt girls?" he spat. Jace turned to Clary. "Are you okay?"

He reached to touch her and Clary moved away. "Don't. I'll hurt you." Clary whispered.

"It's okay," Jace said soothingly. "I - "

A strangled cry made Jace whirl around, his eyes going wide. A few feet away, a girl, one of the soldiers in black and red was dragging her dagger across his shoulder before she stabbed Alec, crimson pouring from his wound. She swiped his legs off the floor and Alec went crashing to the floor, his face scrunched up in pain.

" _Alec!_ " Jace cried, unconsciously dropping his weapon and lunged forward to help his _parabatai_. Jace's hand shot out and wrapped around the girl's neck, his other hand, probably realizing he had dropped his seraph blade, went to his weapons belt. Jace and the girl went crashing to the floor from the force of Jace's impact, the both of them a blur of flailing limbs and weapons.

Before she could see what became of the girl, Clary felt herself being knocked sideways. She groaned before the person that knocked her down helped her up.

"I'm sorry - Clarissa Fairchild? But you were dead!" a man who looked about thirty said, shock lacing his voice. He was bloody and sweaty, his face smeared with black blood.

He looked at her for a few more moments before he released her and went back to the fight.

It wasn't too long before someone else found her too.

"Clary!" Jocelyn gasped as she shoved her way through the crowd. She enveloped her in a crushing hug, smelling of ash, sweat, blood and just the slightest tinge of cotton. She was incredibly relieved when Jocelyn didn't burn when she touched her. She guessed the rune had worn off. Over Jocelyn's shoulder, she lifted her arm and saw that all that was left of the rune was a silvery scar.

"Are you okay?" she gushed, pulling back and I cupping her cheek. Clary tried not to look so lifeless and knew she failed when Jocelyn's eyebrows scrunched up and she opened her mouth to say something.

One of the creatures with the face of a human loomed up behind Jocelyn, it's sharp spider like limbs raised and positioned for impaling.

The alarmed look on Clary's face must have alerted Jocelyn because she whirled around, a blade Clary didn't know Jocelyn had been holding raised. She heard Jocelyn gasp before she threw herself at the creature, knocking both of them back into the sea of battles and away from Clary.

Clary looked at all the fighting that surrounded her and she cringed at the sight of the fallen Shadowhunters that lay lifeless on the ground. They were losing, she knew. There were too many of them and too little of us.

In her peripheral, she saw Isabelle falling to the ground, her right hand clutching her bleeding left arm as she cried out in pain. She couldn't see Simon anywhere and hoped he was okay. Magnus looked tired and drained as weaker versions of his vibrant sparks flew from his shaking hands, unaware of his fallen lover. His magic now had less an effect of killing the creatures and demons than incapacitating them. Jace was tending to Alec frantically, his body half covering his fallen _parabatai_ 's body. From behind, Clary could see that the back of Jace's shirt was shredded by three claw marks, the skin underneath bleeding and red. Alec's eyes locked with hers, alarmingly weak.

She _had_ to at least _try_ to do something to help or none of them would make it out of here. She felt herself sinking in horror as she thought frantically of how to help. It didn't help that her brain currently worked at the speed capacity of a rock.

A rune flashed in her mind, the same she had been seeing for the past few days and the stele felt hot in her hand, no longer warm.

Words rang through her head and Clary closed her eyes, trying to shut everything out.

 _When you wake up, you need to do whatever you can to get to a stele and draw._

Those words had felt like a millennium ago, a time separated by a vast sea of pain.

Her eyes fluttered open and she gripped the stele tightly in her hand. She turned and hurried as fast as she could towards the wall of the room. She fell to her knees and she braced herself against the wall with one hand before applying the stele to the wall. When the two came into contact, it made the sound of a match being struck.

She closed her eyes and let the image of the intricate rune flow through her arm and into the rune as she started to draw. She gasped as she felt the action of drawing the rune sapping her energy which flowed through her arm in ribbons, transferring into the energy that drove her hand as she drew. She poured everything into the rune - all her pain and her hurt and the love she felt for Jace, Simon, Isabelle, Alec and Magnus. She felt as if she were pouring her blood and soul into it, her veins burning and prickling with static electricity. She inhaled sharply as she struggled to keep her hand from shaking. Clary wanted to fall to the ground and stay there.

Her hand felt heavy, too heavy to keep up but she did so anyways. The rune came out forced as she willed herself to keep drawing. She tried to make her strokes as graceful as possible so she wouldn't mess it up.

She converted the pain she felt and the anger into energy and willpower as she finished the last of the rune. When she was done, she tiredly opened her eyes, feeling completely drained of energy.

The rune glowed like a dying ember against the wall, faintly glowing. She sat back, her hand falling limply onto her lap and the stele rolling out of her grasp.

The Mark spoke of an unearthly power, one that was light and dark at the same time, one that said _remember_ and _destroy_. There was something sinister in the way it looked though light was spilling from it.

Slowly, the rune glowed brighter, shining gold, the outline of it like cracks that allowed light out. An in a sudden eruption, the rune shined a bright gold and the light burst outwards, blinding Clary. She felt the warmth of the light on her face and marveled at it. At the same time, she felt something snap into place in her mind and she gasped, her eyes flying open as a sharp pain shot through her head.

She gasped as a flurry of images, of experiences and feelings invaded her mind as she stared sightlessly at whatever that was before her, still blinded by the bright light of the rune. Voices filled her head, echoing in her, followed by flashing images that accompanied the words.

 _"My name is not little girl."_

 _"Welcome to the City of Bones."_

 _"Stay away from Jace."_

 _"To love is to destroy."_

 _"Alec?"_

 _"I only had one pencil."_

 _"It's a graveyard. It's Alicante's City of Bones_."

 _"You're not going. If I have to tie you up and sit on you until this insane whim of yours passes, you are not going to Idris."_

 _"You showed me how to read Naruto."_

 _"My son."_

 _"Sometimes, Clary, love just isn't enough."_

 _"I want to Mark you in a way that will bind us together, Clary. It's just a small Mark, but it's permanent. Are you willing?"_

 _"Patience, little grasshopper. Good things come to those who wait."_

 _"Since you've been a Daylighter you've had that power."_

 _"So maybe our problems aren't like other couples."_

 _"Jordan wants me to think about the beach."_

 _"Some good I mean to do, despite of my own nature."_

 _"I've never felt so … light."_

 _"Are you saying you want him to forget us?"_

 _"I am willing."_

 _"I want you to meet Tessa."_

" _You're my best friend."_

 _"Jace Herondale plays the piano very well."_

 _"Every time I think I'm missing a piece of me, you give it back."_

She felt hot tears fall from her eyes as she fell into the light.

Jace wiped his hand across his face as he got off the body of the dead soldier. He slipped the dagger he used to kill her into its sheath again before rushing to Alec's side, almost slipping on the oily demonic ichor that had gathered on the floor. He fell to his knees, watching in panic as Alec gasped like a fish out of water, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

For a moment, Jace felt lost and completely hopeless before he mentally slapped himself in the face and forced himself to focus.

The first thing that came to mind was how much and how quick Alec was losing blood. Jace pressed his hand to the wound, feeling warm blood coat his hands as he tried to stop the blood.

Through the loud snarls and grunts and cries, Jace swore he had heard someone screaming " _Jonathan_!" and it had sounded like Jem.

He shook it off as he peeled the torn fabric of Alec's shirt back, wincing at the sight.

The soldier had dragged the dagger across Alec's shoulder, parting the skin there deeply like the Red Sea, before stabbing him, barely missing his throat. It was more serious than it had looked. Alec was gasping, his hand searching blindly for something.

"Hold on, Alec. _Please_ ," Jace said. He could hear the frantic desperation in his voice as he used a dagger to cut through the fabric of Alec's shirt so he could assess the wound better. The black fabric parted easily and Jace fought a cringing at the sight of the red, bleeding wound that stretched from his collarbone to his shoulder.

Jace drew out his stele from his pocket and applied it to Alec's shoulder, quickly drawing an _iratze_.

It immediately turned into a silvery scar, not having done much for the wound. Jace swore before applying another _iratze_. And _another_.

Alec groaned as he clamped his eyes shut tightly for a moment before they flew open again, his blue orbs filled with pain.

Jace hated feeling so _scared_. He hated being scared of the pained look in Alec's eyes. He knew what Alec was trying to tell him.

"Jace ..." Alec choked.

"I'm not going to leave you, okay? You're my _parabatai._ " Jace said harshly, using a piece of Alec's jacket which he had ripped off to staunch the blood flow of the wound. "You're either an idiot to think I'm going to even consider doing that to you or ridiculously self destructive."

"I'm an idiot … then." Alec whispered.

"Damn right you are." Jace muttered.

"From all … your influences." Alec continued, wincing and gasping softly.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Jace said. He tried applying several more _iratze_ s to stop the bleeding. After about three, the bleeding slowed to almost non existent.

Alec groaned, grabbing Jace's hand tightly. "Jace ..." he groaned, inhaling sharply, his back momentarily arching of the floor like a bow before he slumped back down, looking tired.

The amount of blood that had pooled around Alec on the ground and had soaked into his shirt and was smeared on Jace terrified him. How much blood had Alec lost?

"Jace," Alec said, his voice hoarse. He wasn't looking at Jace as his head was turned to a side, looking past and behind him.

"Hold on," Jace said again, pressing his stele to Alec's arm and drawing a blood replacement rune.

" _Jace,_ " Alec pressed, clutching his right wrist tightly.

"I'm a little busy saving your life, Alec." Jace said patiently, finishing the rune and watching as it slowly sank into his skin, leaving a silvery scar behind.

"Jace!" Alec said loudly, the word sounding forced and scratchy.

"What?!" Jace said, looking at Alec who hissed " _Clary_ ," at the same time, taking a shaky breath.

Jace whirled around and saw Clary kneeling by a wall, something small rolling from her hand. At this angle, Jace saw that Clary had drawn something on the wall, about the size of a mango. It looked like a Mark but it wasn't one he had seen before.

"What is she ...?" Jace whispered to himself, clutching his stele tightly in his hand.

Suddenly, the outline of the Mark cracked, light spilling from the cracks. The Mark glowed, brighter and brighter with each passing moment. Clary was staring at it, seemingly unaware of everything that was happening around her.

The rune dimmed slightly before light burst forward from it in a sudden eruption like a supernova exploding once it had reached its peak, swallowing Clary in its rays.

" _Clary_!" Jace screamed before he was blinded by the light.

He heard a few screams before a loud whooshing filled his ears.

Warmth caressed his skin like a dragon was breathing on him and he felt … lighter. It felt as if he was weightless, everything inside of him that was bodily scooped out and replaced with light. He gasped as he felt the familiar fiery flare of the Heavenly Fire as it sang and bubbled in his vein ignited, a feeling he hadn't felt in so long.

At first, the fiery pain didn't register in Jace. All he could comprehend was the feeling of fiery liquid molten flowing through his veins, melting him.

Then the pain felt like it was razing him to ashes as Jace screamed.

 _Clary? Clary? Clary._

 _Clary. Clary? Clary. Clary. Clary._

Voices - so many different voices - called to her. But she was so confused.

One moment, she was surrounded by light, by images and the next, everything was dark, not a single sound audible.

She wanted to claw her way back to the light but every part of her felt torturously weighed down.

All she could think was that she was dead and she hadn't gone to heaven.

 _Clary. Clary. Clary Clary Clary_.

The voices served as a lifeline, one that she could grab onto and follow as it pulled her to the surface.

As if resurfacing from being underwater, Clary gasped, inhaling sharply. She appreciated the rush of air that travelled into her lungs. Her eyes fluttered open and light filled her vision again. She realized she was staring at a gold ceiling when she saw the cracks in the cement.

She was lying on her back, her shoulderblades dully burning with pain but she barely noticed. Her legs were bent at an unnatural, uncomfortable angle underneath her. One of her hands was lying on the cool ground, sticky and slightly wet underneath her hand. The other was lying on her stomach, clenched lightly.

She felt a little out of place … she felt different. It was as if she was awakening after a long time and only to find herself in someone else's body. Or rather, she was inside someone else's body and was watching as the person moved and breath without her doing anything. She felt detached.

On the bright side, the heavy, emotionless weight that had earlier hung in her chest had disappeared - a presence she hadn't known was there until it was gone. She felt like she could breath now and she could feel. Feel _everything_.

It took her several moments to realize that the sound of battle and death had silenced, leaving the air around her eerily silent. Faintly, she could hear someone murmuring something but it was too soft to make out the words.

Relief flooded her that the battle had ended and she settled with closing her eyes and going to sleep. She felt drained of energy as if she hadn't slept in so long.

A short nap felt deserved.

For once, the darkness of her eyelids was comforting and sleep was the sacred thing in the world.

But, as usual, the thing she wanted the most was held out of reach when she felt someone brushing her hair away from her forehead gently, lovingly. She didn't want to open her eyes. Maybe if this person saw that she was asleep, he or she would leave her alone and let her sleep.

The brushing continued, fingers caressing with light and gentle strokes. They were callous and so _familiar_. She continued to keep her eyes close, still hoping that this person would leave.

"Clary?" Jace whispered, so softly, as if he were afraid she was asleep and would wake her. "Open your eyes."

Her eyes flew open in surprise at the sound of his voice. She felt like she was somewhere else entirely, as if in that short time she had closed her eyes, she had been thrown into another time. She remembered another time like this; her lying on the sand before Lake Lyn, bloodied and injured after her encounter with the Angel Raziel and when she had opened her eyes, she had seen Jace leaning over her, asking her to open her eyes.

Jace, who was no longer dead, who the Angel had brought back.

Now, frighteningly familiar, Jace leaned over her, his eyes soft and molten gold and vulnerable. _Her Jace_.

As if seeing him for the very first or last time, Clary's eyes raked him in, drinking in every single detail of him like how she had when she had opened her eyes on the shores of Lake Lyn, from his tangled, messy hair that was matted and lanky with blood and sweat, slightly grey from the layer of ash that covered his head to the shallow cut that was on his jaw, surrounded by a blossom of bruises; from the lacerations that were visible through his, bloody shredded shirt to his grimy, dirty and blood streaked yet still beautiful face and to the small star shaped scar that was on his shoulder, not raised like the others on his body as if it were part of his skin, printed there.

"Jace," she whispered in slow wonderment. She remembered him kissing Colette and a stab of hurt went through her. She pushed it away and decided she would stick a chopstick in his eye for it later. Right now, she was going to appreciate him.

"I thought I had lost you again. That rune … I didn't know what it was going to do to you." His eyes tightened slightly as he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. She wanted to hug him, throw her arms around him and never let go and tell him, _reassure_ him that she was fine and so was he but she didn't want to lie. She didn't know if any of them were fine. "The light faded and I saw you lying on the floor … not moving and I thought that I had lost you again," he said softly, as if he were soothing himself as well as her.

And with a sudden blowing impact, Clary realized she remembered. Remembered the things that had happened to her. Hodge, Max, Valentine, Lilith, Raphael, Sebastian, Asmodeus … The memories came flooding back. She could remember the kisses Jace gave her, the demons they had fought, the amusing petty and playful arguments she had with Isabelle and occasionally Alec, every _The Matrix_ and _Lord of the Rings_ movie session with Simon, the laughs and tears with Jocelyn and Luke, and every bad memory she had of Valentine and Sebastian. She remembered every smile and every death and every sacrifice she had had to make and she had seen.

The fact that she remembered made her want to burst into tears and smile at the same time.

"Jace," Clary whispered, almost smiling. " _It's me_."

Jace's eyebrows furrowed for a moment. "Clary, I don't - "

"It's _me_. I remember everything." she said breathlessly, as if she couldn't say the words fast enough.

His eyes widened and he stopped rubbing circles on her cheek with his thumb, his hand and fingers frozen.

"You … remember?" Jace said, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I remember," Clary said, this time a soft smile on her lips.

Jace pulled her up so she was sitting, a wondrous marvelling in his eyes. "The rune ..."

Clary nodded silently.

"The Angel Ithuriel gave it to you?"

"Well, yes and no." Clary said softly, tracing the outline of Jace's jaw with her index finger. "He sent Jonathan to give it to me. In a dream." Clary said slowly, waiting for Jace's reaction.

His eyes widened, slightly. "Seba - Jonathan?" Jace said softly. He had a thoughtful expression on his face. "He sure knows how to warm up to someone." Jace said finally. He looked around and Clary remembered that they weren't alone.

"We should leave," Jace said just as the sound of an explosive going off thundered through the room.

Jace pulled her to her feet, keeping a protective arm around her. She received looks of incredulity and shock from the Shadowhunters that surrounded her, all of which had thought she was dead. Clary saw that Alec was being supported by Magnus, his shirt missing from his body. Isabelle was being embraced by a seemingly hysterical Maryse while Simon and Robert stood a little to the side, watching the both of them with a small smiles.

The demons and creatures had disappeared, along with all the soldiers in black and red. The sound of rocks being torn apart rang in Clary's ears and she looked at Jace, wondering what was it.

"The Clave are tearing this place apart and searching through it. I think Sarrah, Colette and their soldiers got away." Jace's eyes raked the crowd that watched them. Clary followed his gaze and saw several werewolves in the crowd. One seemed to give her a toothy grin and she knew why it looked so familiar. Maia.

"I think your rune destroyed all the demons."

 _The Mark spoke of an unearthly power, one that was light and dark at the same time, one that said remember and destroy._

Clary had no idea how accurate she had been.

"Let's g - "

Jace cut off at the cry of " _Jem!_ ". Immediately, Jace's eyes widened as a stream of murmurs and gasps that rippled through the gathering of Shadowhunters.

Clary recognised the voice. Gentle yet sharp, marred by an accent somewhere in between American and British. Tessa.

Jace and Clary pushed through the crowd, Magnus, Simon and Alec following them by their heels (Alec being dragged along by Magnus so he did not particularly have a choice as he looked like he couldn't even stand on his own).

Jace had to shove aside several broad shouldered and heavy set Shadowhunters. Clary guessed he wasn't in the mood for a simple _excuse me_

She heard the whispers and murmurs of " _Clarissa_ ," and _"Clarissa Fairchild,_ " as she past the Shadowhunters. Jace's grip tightened on her hand as he pulled her through the crowd.

Jace finally managed to shove his way through the throng of Shadowhunters and to Tessa. They stopped short when they saw Tessa on the ground, her lap pillowing a pale and gasping Jem. His eyes were trained on Tessa's face, never leaving as he took short intakes of air.

"James," Clary heard Magnus whisper. Clary craned her head around and saw Magnus handing a pale Alec over to a familia dark haired Shadowhunter before crouching down by Jem.

"Magnus, _Magnus please help him._ " Tessa cried, one of her hands on Jem's cheek while the other was over Jem's hand which was on his stomach. Blood was seeping through the fabric of his clothes and through his and Tessa's fingers.

Clary noticed the dagger that laid beside Jem, coated in crimson to the hilt and the body of a dead soldier that lay a few feet away.

Jace seemed to blanch at the sight as he kneeled beside Tessa, a stele in his hand.

"Clary - could you do something?" Jace asked, his forehead lined with worry.

Tessa replied him, shaking her head sharply. Her hair, which was already a mess, fell further out of the ponytail that had once pulled her hair back. "I already tried that," she said, sounding hopeless. "The runes won't do anything."

"Wo Tessa, wo ai ni." Jem said quietly, taking a shaky breath. "Wo tui pu che."

"Jem, you don't have to apologise," Tessa whispered, a tear falling from her cheek. It splashed onto Jem's cheek as if he had been the one to shed a tear.

Magnus pried Tessa and Jem's hand away and she heard him inhale sharply.

"Magnus ..." Jem whispered, his gasping slowing.

Beside her, Clary heard Simon whisper: "Persephone was right."

 **A/N - Hi! Now, the spelling of the words in Chinese there may not be a hundred percent correct. So in translation: "My Tessa, I love you. I am so sorry." This was the last chapter (!). Next update will be the epilogue. I'd like to thank everyone of you who commented your support! I really needed that thanks so much.**

 **This chapter and the last chapter was suppose to be one long chapter but I decided to split it into two so here you go. Originally, this chapter was supposed to only have Clary's POV in it but I decided that having Jace's POV in it would be crucial.**


	36. Epilogue: Mea Maxima Culpa

**Epilogue: Mea Maxima Culpa**

Clary wrapped her jacket tightly around her as she looked out at the garden that sat across the looming fasade of the New York Institute. She shivered from the cold before she turned away from the open window and sat at the foot of her bed. The cold autumn air blew into her room, clearing the musty air in the rectangular room and replacing it with a crisp atmosphere.

She felt lonely, a presence that had loomed around her for the past couple of days she had been stuck in here. But within that loneliness, there was a small almost unnoticeable flicker of relief.

That was the flipside to the isolation, she decided. It gave her time to think, to ponder over things that had happened in the last week.

Clary had never been one to think or go into deep thought about things. She had always acted first and thought about the consequences of her actions later. She wasn't like warrior Jace who strategized every single move he made before he did it.

She was more like devil-may-care Jace who threw himself in the path of danger without thinking of the consequences or dangers except she didn't have a death wish as big as Jace's. She wasn't raised a Shadowhunter that was taught ever since from a young age that every move and every decision had its consequences whether good or bad.

She remembered what Isabelle had said to her once.

 _You're Clary Fray. You go charging into every situation without knowing how the hell it's going to turn out, and then you get through with sheer guts and craziness._

She recalled the whole of last week and she remembered how it felt to not know Jace and Isabelle and Simon and Alec and not recognize them. It seemed like such an impossible thing - her forgetting and not knowing them but she had.

She stared at the blank white wall that sat across her bed, the same one she had been staring at for the last two days. Ever since they got back from Ireland, after the Silent Brothers had treated her wounds, she had been locked in this room, unable to leave it though it was unlocked, occasionally getting visits from several Silent Brothers who commenced to running tests on her, to check for any side effects on the rune she had drawn and for any remaining Blocks in her mind.

She was also visited by members of the Clave who had interrogated her on her time with Keayla and in Ireland. When she had requested for Jace and Isabelle and Simon and even once, Alec, the Silent Brother that stood outside her door, guarding it at this very moment would tell her that no one but Silent Brothers and Council members could see her at the moment.

She leaned back, her back lying on the bed while her legs hung over the sides and closed her eyes and tried to remember what had happened after she had blacked out upon arriving in Los Angeles so many months ago.

It turned out that what Clary told Jace about remembering _everything_ hadn't been particularly true. Over the past two days, she found that certain memories were fuzzy and when she tried to remember clearly, she would end up with two or more versions of the memory.

She had a faint idea which of the versions was the real one but sometimes she found herself confused.

She opened her eyes and stared at the roof of her room, watching the small particles of dust float through the air.

An image of Jace kissing Colette flashed in her mind and Clary grimaced, as if that image affected her physically. In a way, it did by making her stomach churn and tears prickling in her eyes.

Deep down, she know she couldn't hold Jace fully responsible and target all her anger at him. For almost a year, he had thought her dead. Everyone had. She couldn't blame him for moving on. If she were truly dead, she wouldn't have wanted Jace to cling on to her. But what she was mad at him was for the fact that he _kissed her_ while he was, in what Clary guessed, a love-hate relationship with Colette.

The other thing she was mad about was that out of all 7 billion people in the world (or at least among all the women in the 7 billion population), Jace had to choose _Colette of all people._

She _did not_ like Colette and her working with her sadistic mother who had caused her so much pain and so much trauma did not make her like her any more.

Groaning in frustration, she sat up and glared at the closed door of her room.

"Brother Abraham, let me out!" Clary groaned. Silence replied to her as usual and she groaned again. She got up, went over to her nightstand and swung her leg forward in frustration. Her leg went through the wood of her nightstand, creating a small hole. She looked at the hole she had created in satisfaction before flinging herself back onto her bed, lying on her side, her back facing the door.

She wanted to get out of here and help look for Sarrah. She hated feeling so helpless.

She heard her door creak open and the almost inaudible rustle of a Silent Brother's robes as he walked in.

 _Someone is here to see you, Clarissa Fairchild_.

She heard the voice of the Silent Brother in her mind though there was no sound.

"If it's another council member, ask him to go away. I don't feel too well." Clary muttered. For a moment, she considered making a run for it but knew she wouldn't even make it past the doorframe. She heard the door shut and she felt the presence of another person in the room, watching her.

"Please just leave me alone," Clary said.

"I expected a much more warm welcome, being the first non-interrogative, extremely good looking company you've had in two days. Maybe even a little hallelujah or kumbaya chorus."

Clary sat up so fast her head spun.

Jace stood at the foot of her bed, not smiling. He was wearing a grey shirt and faded black jeans, the bruises on his arms and jaw already fading into yellow blossoms that blended into his skin. His hair was tousled, sticking up in curls as if he had ran his hand through them many times.

"Hi," she said, surprised that he was actually standing in this room with her. He was not looking at her but something beside her.

"What universal, terminal wrongness has the nightstand, a complete inanimate object with a horrible color matching to the entire room, committed towards you that had deserved a - what I suspect - roundhouse kick?"

"I was frustrated." Clary said slowly, watching Jace.

"Well, you didn't have to murder the furniture."

She still couldn't believe he was here with her. "How did you ...?"

Jace shrugged. "Having killer charms and amazing earth shattering good looks help."

Clary tucked a strand of hair behind her ear awkwardly. "And here I thought the Silent Brothers were asexual, even to Herondale charms."

The corner of Jace's mouth twitched slightly before it broke into a small smile. She loved that she still had the ability to catch Jace off guard with her retorts.

Seeing Jace now, she felt a flurry of mixed emotions. Anger, guilt, love …

She felt so, so guilty for putting Jace through so many things. She had forgotten him and she had hurt him, over and over. First with him thinking that she was dead and then her hurting him again when she couldn't remember him, when she had treated him like a danger and letting him see her so broken ...

She was about to open her mouth to apologize when Jace cut her off with something unexpected.

"You want to get out of here?"

Clary blinked. "Can we? I mean - well," Clary shut herself up before smiling. "Yeah."

She took Jace's outstretched hand, feeling the warm skin beneath hers. His hand was warmer than she remembered.

He opened her door and Clary was surprised to see that Brother Abraham was not stationed in front of her door, ready to send her back into room arrest.

"Where are we going?"

Jace rubbed soothing circles on her hand with his thumb. "The greenhouse."

There was something tense about his posture, about the way how his shoulders looked so taut as he walked. He also looked distracted and felt so - distant. The thought put a lump in her throat and she felt the sudden strong urge to cry.

"Are you okay, Jace?" Clary said several long agonizing minutes.

He looked at her, looking as if he was caught off guard with her question. His composure returned almost immediately and he gave her a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine." he said. If Clary didn't know him so well, she would have believed the calm fasade he had on and mistook the hardness in his eyes for annoyance instead of doubt.

The walk to the greenhouse seemed much shorter than Clary remembered. He opened the door for her and Clary stepped in, the muted clean, intoxicating smell of overturned soil and flowers enveloping her. She inhaled deeply, immediately feeling more relaxed.

"I thought maybe you'd want a change in scenery." Jace said, sounding very close though his voice was quiet. "And I thought maybe we could talk."

He led her through the wall of green, pushing enormous leaves of tropical trees out of the way. She ducked under several low hanging branches and leaves while she heard Jace curse softly, probably getting hit with a branch he didn't notice.

Clary felt Jace take her hand and pull her through. He led her to one of the marble benches that overlooked the city. The sun was setting, lighting the sky with slight streaks of pink and orange.

Jace pulled her down beside him and she leaned back against the chair, feeling her shoulderblades prickle with pain. Her back became rigid as she fought back against the rising hiss on her lips.

She knew that the wounds on her shoulder blades would never heal completely and would always hurt along with the shallow cut on her cheek and waist that were left by demon metal.

She leaned against Jace's side instead, feeling more safe than she had ever felt in a long, long time.

He stiffened for a moment before he relaxed against her, circling his arms around her body and pulling her closer. He seemed very careful not to touch her upper back.

"I'm sorry. It's just that it's been _so long_ since I last held you like this." Jace said quietly, nuzzling his cheek in her hair. She relaxed further into him, resting her head on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of it under her cheek and listening to the unique beating of his heart in his chest.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, gazing at the sunset streaks that painted the sky.

Jace said nothing. He sat quietly beside Clary, one of his hands playing with her hair as he twirled a lock in between his fingers.

"How's Jem?" Clary murmured, doodling idly on Jace's lap.

"Recovering. And organizing with the Silent Brothers." Jace said, slight amusement in his voice.

"Organizing?"

"His wedding." Jace said and Clary could almost hear him roll his eyes. "He woke up this morning and more or less _convinced_ Tessa to get married with him as possible, pulling out _A Thousand And One Reasons To Get Married Now_. 'I can't wait any longer', 'I'll keep my promise to you', 'I love you,' etcetera."

Clary couldn't help but smile. She had been so relieved when Robert, who had been the first council member to visit her, had told her that the Silent Brothers had managed to save Jem and he was resting and though he had lost a lot of blood, he was fine. Magnus had managed to lessen the blood that was flowing out from his wound and had slipped Jem into a sort of relaxed state so that his blood wouldn't pump and flow as fast.

She looked up at him and saw that Jace was staring sightlessly out the window.

"Jace," Clary said. He didn't reply or even notice that she had called him. "Jace," she said, a little more loudly. She detached herself from him to look at him better.

"Hmm?"

"Jace, tell me what wrong." Clary said, almost pleading.

"Nothing," he murmured, stroking her cheek.

Clary wanted to slap him. Did he really think she wouldn't notice? Or had they really grown so far apart - had he already moved on - that he wouldn't share his troubles with her?

She looked away from him, feeling her throat tighten and tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest.

"Clary," he whispered. Underneath the sadness of his tone, Clary could hear the simmering self hatred.

She looked at him, her lips trembling. "I'm sorry, Jace."

Confusion fluttered across his face but she didn't give him a chance to speak. "I'm sorry that I couldn't remember, that I hurt you again and again. I should have remembered - I know that it's so _wrong_ that I could ever forget you but I did. I _hate_ that I can't seem to stop hurting you. I left you for a _year_. And I just can't stop thinking that I've hurt you, Isabelle, Simon and Alec and Mom and Luke and I didn't care. All of you could have gotten killed when you went after me."

By now, Clary was close to tears as she used every ounce of self control to keep the tears in. "And I understand that you've moved on and I don't blame you if you want nothing to do with me anymore but _I_ will always be there for you and you can tell me anything."

Jace stared at her as if she had grown an extra head or recited an entire chapter of the Codex in pig Latin.

She felt a tear slide down her cheek as she waited for Jace to say something. Anything.

After a minute of silence, Jace finally spoke.

"Clary, are you really saying sorry to me for something you were not responsible for?" Jace said quietly, wiping the tear away. "I could never get angry at you, Clary - well, not without a fair share of self hatred for myself, of course. I love you too much. All those things - you forgetting and being scared of me and getting kidnapped - were not your fault. Sarrah had done them and trust me when I say _I'd walk through hell to save you_."

Jace's arms went around her as he hugged her to his chest. She felt the muscles in his arms flex as he pulled her onto his lap. His movements were gentle that when his hand brushed against her shoulder blades, she didn't feel a thing. She felt his lips against her hair and the waterworks started again as one or two tears slipped past her closed eyelids.

She missed him. God, _she missed him._

The scent of cotton and detergent and, somehow, sunshine, stuck to Jace as she buried her head into his shoulder. He held her in his arms as she cried, occasionally nuzzling his cheek and lips into her hair. A show of affection so small but it sent Clary's heart into a frenzy.

Jace pulled back to look at Clary, his eyes soft and brimming with his own tears. In a much more softer, rougher voice, Jace whispered the words that mended her cracking heart. "And in what universe or dimension - hell, in what _reality_ would I ever _not love you._ There will never be a day when I'm _over you_ and there will never be a day when my love for you stops growing."

"I love you so much and I don't know if it's possible for someone to love someone this much. From the moment I met you, Clary, I couldn't take my eyes of you. In that first glance, you stole whatever part of me that didn't belong to Alec and Max and Isabelle. I told myself it was ridiculous because you were a mundane and no girl had ever captured my interest and I told myself I didn't care but again and again, I wanted to protect you from even the slightest dangers and _murder_ Simon for being so near to you. And I'm ranting now because for the first time, words have failed to describe just _how much I love you._ "

Gently as if she were porcelain, Jace wiped her tears away, his eyes burning as they gazed like two flames that stared past her eyes and into her soul.

"I will love you even if the past changes, I love you no matter what happens now and I will love you when the world fades away."

Clary buried her face into his chest, her eyes closed as she felt contented at being held by Jace, her heart swelling up and aching at the amount of love she felt for him. It was moments like this that required Clary to take a double take on her life.

No way was this extraordinary boy _hers_. He was too perfect and beautiful - inside and out - for him to belong to her. Clary had done nothing to deserve someone as beautiful as Jace yet he never disappeared or faded away like a mirage.

Jace stroked her hair as he held her, not saying anything but occasionally, she felt soft lips press onto her head.

When he did speak, the small ball of doubt in her chest dissolved. "I will always tell you everything that's wrong. It's just that I've gone out of practice in telling people my problems for about a year now and saying ' _nothing_ ' and ' _I'm fine'_ is kind of a habit." Jace tried to half smile but it was a futile attempt as the cracks in his matter-of-a-fact fasade were showing. "It's a crap excuse but that's all I can say."

"It's okay. I believe you. I'm sorry," Clary apologized again, this time for causing Jace's walls to build back when she was gone. She hated herself for it.

"What - "

"I have my reasons." Clary said quickly, cutting him off. "But could you tell me what's wrong now?"

Jace sighed. "A lot of things. Do you know why I knew the dungeons so well?" Before Clary could reply, he laughed bitterly before speaking again. "When I was under Sebastian's control, he took me there and we planned and got the soldiers ready there. It was convenient, being near the Burren. And whatever that's coming, I _know_ it has something to do with Sebastian."

"It does. In my dream, Jonathan told me he was sorry that he was still messing up my life even after he was dead. Maybe Sarrah's continuing his plans? Maybe expanding them?"

Jace looked at her, his eyes studying her face. "Maybe. But Sarrah may have her own ideas going on. Sebastian never said anything about The Great Darkness to me so I assume that's all Sarrah. Maybe she's just using what Sebastian did as a foundation."

He lapsed into silence, his fingers unconsciously playing with her hair.

"And something else happened too. When that rune exploded I felt as if the Heavenly Fire was burning me again and I felt as if I was going to die. It did something to me, Clary. I hear things - voices in my head. Before I go to sleep … sometimes they wake me up. Anytime of the day, really."

"What do they say?" Clary asked, her eyebrows scrunching up in worry. She was afraid this was the second coming of what had happened with Lilith.

"My name. And sometimes yours or Alec or Isabelle's. That's all they're saying for now."

Jace's voice was shaky and her heart leaped out for him. "Jace. It's gonna be alright. We'll get through this together. Like we always have." Clary said in her most gentle voice. Jace seemed to relax.

Clary sighed and let her head fall against his shoulder.

"I never kissed Colette." Jace said as he drew circles on her arm.

Clary looked up at him, surprised by his sudden words.

"What?"

"I said, I never kissed Colette. She kissed me. I never returned the kiss." he said, shifting uncomfortably, not looking at her.

"Really?" Clary said, the corners of her mouth pulling into a small smile. Seeing Jace squirm was priceless. She could feel the surprise and complete relief running through her but she kept it inside her.

 _He didn't kiss Colette. He didn't kiss her!_ Clary mentally broke into an Irish jig.

"It was disgusting." Jace murmured, his mouth pulling into a slight grimace.

"Really?" Clary said again. "How so? Colette seems … plenty experienced."

Jace finally looked at her, the light in his dimmed and molten. "She isn't you."

"You know, when you kissed me, back in London, _technically_ , it was Clary Ashworth's first kiss. So technically, you stole my first kiss. Twice." Clary murmured against his chest.

"I'm a rebel." Jace breathed.

Clary laughed lightly and it felt so good to laugh. It was like a weight was lifted off her chest and shoulders and she could breathe.

"Isabelle," Jace said in surprise.

Clary turned her head and was surprised to see Isabelle standing in front of them, her eyes troubled. Her very long legs were sheathed in jeans and she wore a black lace tank top and see through rayon cardigan.

"Hey." Isabelle murmured before her gaze shifted to Jace. "Can I talk to her? In private?"

"Aren't you allergic to practically _half_ of the greenhouse?" Jace asked incredulously, ignoring her question.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Yes. But that's beside the point. I _really_ need to talk to Clary."

Jace sighed. "Fine." He shifted out from under Clary so she was now sitting on the marble bench, leaning down to press his lips other forehead before walking away. She craned her head around, watching him leave.

"Oh, Jace, Alec wants to speak to you. Apparently, he's been wanting to speak with you for the last two days." Isabelle said to Jace's back. He made no move to show that he had heard or acknowledged Isabelle's sentence but Clary knew he did.

When Jace disappeared through the foliage, she turned to look at Isabelle who was smiling at her softly.

"So … what do you want to talk about?"

For a moment, Clary was thrown back in time and remembered when she was attacked in the same place she was in now by -

Clary cut off her thoughts. That had been Fria.

"How's your arm?" she asked, looking at her arm through the see through sleeve of her cardigan.

"It's fine." Isabelle sat beside Clary. "I'm glad you're back. And I mean the real you."

"I am too. Isabelle, I'm so - "

"I'm pretty sure Jace just gave you a whole ' _you don't have to apologize speech_ ' and don't make me give you another one." Isabelle said, looking at Clary meaningfully. Clary realized that Isabelle was fidgeting.

"Is everything fine?" Clary asked, worried. Isabelle never fidgeted.

Isabelle looked at Clary, her eyes racked with guilt. "Mom brought up our _parabatai_ connection."

"Oh." A ball was stuck in her throat at this.

"And she was talking about the ritual."

Clary could tell this wasn't going to go very well.

"She asked me when would I like to arrange a date for the ritual...And the thing is - I don't think I want to be anyone's _parabatai._ "

Clary looked at her, not sure what Isabelle was trying to say. "So, you're telling me that you don't want to be _parabatai_?"

"I don't want to be anyone's." Isabelle said, her eyes wide. She wasn't wearing any make up, making Isabelle look so much younger, so much more vulnerable.

"When I first thought you were dead, when my rune became inactive, it was the worst feeling ever. I felt as if I was dead inside for the first six months. I couldn't function properly, I couldn't think, I couldn't sleep and I felt _empty_ , Clary. I love you but I just _can't_ ever go through that again. I've learnt to live with the emptiness but I can't go through that six months again. And I always knew that us becoming parabatai was...not exactly wrong because that would be offensive but it wasn't wholly right." Her eyes were pleading, begging for Clary's understanding.

"I don't think I knew or understood what a huge thing _parabatai_ is when I agreed to it. I understood the system to it - how it worked, what happens when you have a _parabatai_ but I didn't understand the sacrifices it came with. I knew of the pros but I didn't know how _heavy_ the cons were. And I know you hate me now but - "

"I don't."

Isabelle opened her mouth, closed it, opened again before closing it. She looked at Clary with skepticism in her eyes. "That was not the reaction or answer I was expecting. I had more of a _flip-the-table_ and backhand reaction in mind."

"In a way, I know what you mean. I know how you feel. I never understood why but when I was with mu - Keayla - I felt lost and sometimes I felt so...detached and it wasn't because of the lack of memories. I still feel it, in the back of my mind and it's a sucky feeling." Clary said, almost saying _mum_ when she was mentioning Keayla. "I'm not happy that I'm going to have to feel this for the rest of my life but I understand that you wouldn't want to go through that again. Seeing that once again, my mortality bar has been raised so high it's almost badass."

Clary couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at her own joke.

"But you don't have to feel it for the rest of your life. I do know someone that had always been destined to be your parabatai even before you both were born. Make the right choice this time and be his parabatai."

There was something funny about Isabelle's sentence but all Clary could do was look at her in shock. "What?"

Her mind raced with questions. "Can Shadowhunters do that?"

Isabelle shrugged. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. It could be possible. The magic Sarrah used is unique. The Silent Brothers aren't very happy that this is so _foreign_ to their knowledge."

She would ask Jace and Maryse and Simon about this later.

"You wouldn't mind?" Clary asked, giving Isabelle a sideway glance.

"Why would I?" Isabelle said. "If anything, it gives me some security that you won't ever be able to date Simon."

Clary gawked at Isabelle. She couldn't still think that way of her and Simon, could she?

Isabelle burst of laughing. "I'm kidding! By the Angel, you should have seen your face!"

Clary wanted to roll her eyes but instead she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Isabelle laughed and slung an arm over Clary's shoulder, pulling her against Isabelle's side.

Something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. It was a bird, flapping it's wings unsteadily as if it were injured. It looked like a raven but Clary couldn't see exactly from where she sat. It carried something in its talons as it flew right for the greenhouse.

"What's that?" Clary wondered, standing up and taking a few steps forward for a closer look. A normal bird wouldn't be flying _straight_ for the glass windows and be carrying something as of it were a messenger.

Isabelle followed her gaze and stood up, her whip uncoiling from her wrist and trailing to the ground, her posture rigid and ready.

"What _is that_?" Isabelle murmured, narrowing her eyes.

The raven suddenly tucked and wrapped it's wings around itself and barreled itself towards the window like a torpedo. It then started spinning like a screwball before it slammed itself against the window, surprisingly making the thick glass crack.

The sickening sound of the raven _thumping_ against the hard, thick glass as it hit it made Clary and Isabelle jump back slightly, a gasp escaping Clary's lips. Miraculously, it didn't seem to be injured as the raven reared back before launching itself at the window again.

This time, the raven created a hole the size of a fist in the glass as it shattered inwards, making small shards of glass fall to the ground. The bird clawed at the hole and dropped the object it had been holding in its talons through it.

It turned to a rolled up piece of parchment. It bounced when it hit the ground and rolled to Clary's shoe. The bird made an unpleasant scratchy noise before it flew away.

Isabelle swooped down before Clary could and picked up the rolled up parchment, acting as if it were a poisonous, deadly creature. She unrolled it and Clary watched as her eyes narrowed to slits.

"What is it?" Clary said, peering at it.

It seemed to be a letter with airy, spidery handwriting across it.

Clary felt her stomach churn at the words on the letter as Isabelle cursed softly.

 _Dearest Clarissa,_

 _I am rather disappointed that I will have to hold off our next meeting as your surprise back up threw me quite off for a moment there, you naughty girl. You'll be pleased to know that I am not mad as things will be back on schedule soon. I suggest you spend your remaining days (or weeks as it all depends, my dear) of freedom well. As when the wheels start to turn, you'll have none._

 _Always watching, Sarrah Ravenshade._

 _ **~ END OF BOOK ONE ~**_

 **A/N - Yes, I am planning on writing a sequel but I don't know when I'll start posting it as I want to make sure I have it all planned out first. Anyway, thank you so much to all my lovely readers! You are literally the best! And sorry for all the pain I've put you through ;P**

 **Bye! xxxxxx**


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